Hopeless | Teen Ink

Hopeless

February 2, 2020
By heidih26 BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
heidih26 BRONZE, Toronto, Ontario
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Don’t let people discourage you. Just fluff out your tutu and dance away.<br /> - Anonymous


For all 69 years of my existence, I was hanging on, my entire life 1 haven’t had a bed. Most of all, I’ve never had a filling meal, not ever, not even in my childhood.

As we sat on the bustling streets of New York City holding our worn out signs with an old paper cup in front of us. I peeped into it and sighed. “How much have we got?” questioned my dear companion Kyle. “Four dollars and sixteen cents,” I answered. This was the money that took three days to earn. With this, we can barely buy a meal let alone two warm sleeping bags in preparation for the harsh winter.

“We might as well as just try to get something to eat with this money, “groaned Kyle.” I nodded vigorously in response, desperate for something to digest. We stood up and trudged towards the nearest McDonald’s. The moment we walked in, the room turned silent. Everyone started whispering and glaring at us and our filthy garments. Kyle and I walked to the counter pretending not to notice the rude glances and fake smiles that we received. With the four dollars and sixteen cents, we bought as much as we could. As the waiter handed over our food, he smiled with pity. I hate it when people look with condescension.

It feels like we are perceived as a completely different species, but we’re not. We’re human.
Kyle and I walked out the door and went back to our spot so we could eat our food in peace; however, deep inside, we’ve never been peaceful. We’ve always been dangling from the tip of a cliff, refusing to let go. We never gave up on the idea of living a safe, healthy, and comfortable life. Yet, after 50 years on the streets, that spark motivating us was fading...

As Kyle drifted off to sleep, I pondered the meaning of life. Why do I exist? What’s my purpose? I kept ruminating over these questions until I dozed off.

When we woke up, we went on about our day as normal. Until a week later, Kyle seemed a bit off. This went on and on and on, day after day, month after month. Then one day, I woke up to see a piece of paper and envelope on top of the spot where Joe's head was resting only hours before. I reached for the note and began to read:

“Dear Axel,
As you may have realized, these past months I’ve been depressed. I want to thank you for being with me all these years. I’ve been hanging on but I just can’t stand being pushed around like this anymore, I had to let go. By the time you read this, I will be watching you from above. You are way stronger than I am. Don’t let go, do it for me. I will be in your heart forever. Please stay strong.

Yours Truly,
Kyle McKinen”

I couldn’t believe it. The friend, brother, that I’ve had for half my life, is gone. It felt like the world was falling apart. Tears began sliding down my face. Until they weren’t tears anymore. They turned into rivers, then, finally, giant waterfalls rushed down my cheeks and into my lap. Not believing the fact that he was gone, I sobbed and sobbed for hours. It was not until nighttime when I finally stopped. I decided to open the envelope; I was stunned. Inside was $1,000 worth of cash. On the envelope he wrote: “I’ve been saving this money for a while now, use it wisely.” I decided to use $500 to buy myself new, durable clothes, a water-proof sleeping bag, hiking boots, and finally a warm, filling meal at ​Father Rob’s Diner​.

For months and months, my stomach was filled. Until one day I was shocked to learn that I only had $49 left. Who knew that 1,000 dollars could be used up so fast? It was a tremendous blunder. Instead of buying myself expensive, filling food every day, I should’ve saved it and used it slowly. Now, my only hope was coming to an end. Days went by, I used less and less money until I only had $5 left. Once again, I was back at square one: I started begging again. My days went on and on. Then one day, I had enough. That day had pulled my trigger; that day released my grip of life. Right after sunrise, a mother was walking down the sidewalk with her daughter, a toddler. Her daughter noticed me and asked her mother, “Mommy, who is that guy over there?” “He’s just a lazy old man who doesn’t want to work.” The mother responded as she steered her daughter the other way.” Those words stabbed me like the day Kyle died. She doesn’t understand that I don’t have rich parents who left me their entire life’s savings. My parents were homeless, and so were my grandparents. No one wants to hire me since I’ve been homeless my entire life. That lesson was learned long ago. Just as I was ranting on and on in my brain, I noticed a guy wearing an expensive looking coat, drink in one hand and a salad in the other. I asked “Money for the homeless?” He walked towards me. He smiled and for a split second, I thought he was going to help me. But the smile morphed into a sneer. He laughed. Then, he dumped his salad and coke on my head as he walked away. “Go get yourself a job you filthy old rag!” He shouted from afar. I looked at myself. It’s true, it had been ages since I had taken a shower. However, I looked at the pieces of lettuce and decided I couldn’t let them go to waste. As I ate the greens, I once again pondered the meaning of life, why am I cursed? Why do I have to be like this? What’s the point?

No, this wouldn’t do. I can’t be like this forever. My body is aching of pain and my soul has been tortured too much. I can’t go on. Slowly, I stood up and and scanned my belongings. Then, I reached down and grabbed my backpack, dumping out all the contents on the way. The rest of my belongings were left behind. Like a turtle, I began trudging towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Picking up rocks and pebbles on the way. As the cars sped past, I said goodbye to the world. By the time I arrived at the bridge, my backpack was bursting with all the rocks I scavenged. Climbing onto the railing, I tied the bag to my waist and leapt off. I plummeted into the waters started sinking

        Down
                Down
                        Down
                                Down. I could feel those weights dragging me. I could feel

the river grasping me. I gave in to those strong currents and my eyes fluttered to a close.


The author's comments:

A heart wrenching story about a homeless man in New York City, thriving without family or friends. But can he hold on much longer? Or is the wind about to knock him off his feet and whisk him away?


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