I lay wrapped up in the warm confines of my sleeping bag. My tent surrounds me. “I could get used to this homeless life,” I say aloud as the rain softly patters upon my tent. I check the indiglo button on my watch and it reads 3:00 AM. I stumble inside and start some coffee.
I have thought often and long about just disappearing – of living the homeless life. My coffee percolator whistles signifying it is ready. I go pour a cup of the hot liquid. That hot nectar soothes my soul.
I turn back to thoughts of homelessness. I rub my face noticing I need a shave. These days of mental illness all meld together. I forget about the little things in life. I just want the peace that my current life doesn’t afford. All these trappings of modern life just don’t suit me. I long to walk out my backdoor to never return.