I don't know where I am anymore.
Twenty-five dollars wasn't enough.
The driver wouldn't listen to me. No matter how many times I tried to talk to him he wouldn't fucking listen. He only seemed to hear me when it was his turn to speak, and then he would just ignore me.
Twenty-five wasn't enough, he said. It costs more to get to Maryland.
But they said it was twenty-five.
He kicked me out. Said something about fucking cheap homeless people trying to mooch rides off of him.
But I had the money. I wasn't mooching. See, here's the money right here in my hand. He took it anyway. He didn't even take me where I want to go and he fucking thieved my money off of me. I needed that money why doesn't he understand that.
Look how far I've sunk.
I'm sitting on the side of the road somewhere. I don't know what city or what state and whenever I try to ask people where I am or where the nearest shelter is they don't listen to me they just keep walking like I don't exist.
It's so hot out. My skin feels raw even though I'm still wearing my jacket.
My bag feels heavy even though there's nothing inside.
I'm out of food.
Out of water.
I'm sitting in the middle of some city filled with heartless souls and I might as well be sitting in the desert.
I'm half expecting to sit here for hours alone until He shows up, silhouetted by that stupid fucking sun I've grown to hate over these years, when I'm on the verge of death by dehydration or heatstroke or whatever the fuck, and offer me a hand or a tentacle, and I'll find that I have no other choice but to go with him.
If he does show, I might accept.
Quite frankly whatever darkness he'll bring might be welcoming after all this sunlight. He's got me cornered. I'm too tired to resist for much longer.
Until next time. Maybe.