and I am not sure I ever will, my heart swells with affection!
Right now I feel
A lot of unexplained questions, and fears, and lack of
Trust in humanity.
I know you have a plan for my life, and
That you Spared me to use me.
Unique in everyway, My flaws, and quirks
Do not overshadow my true intentions.
Everyway I can, I thank you, for sparing and preparing me….amen.
I did not know Kim Porter, just to be upfront. I never met her. She was much Older than me. She was a myth for me, for so long. You know what ,though?!!? I have this inexplicable desire to be famous. I always have. because I could be like her.I want to be beautiful, I want to be glamourous. I want to model…and yet, my story is so much more than, modeling. Kim Porter’s Funeral, was most literally 1 block from the childhood home where my bestfriend in girl scouts lived. It was 4 blocks from the home, my life long brother from another mother lived in , as a child…we wandered those streets as children, and I was baptized in the pool at that Humongous Church, that many call Six Flags Over Jesus. Her Funeral was a spectacle. It swallowed up the love that her children will never be able to feel in her hugs, again. I was on my way, down that street dumbfounded by the masses, fleeing to church on a Saturday….angry officers, and impatient locals like myself….but this truly was quite a disappointing spectacle. When she died, I saw it on TMZ, and thought ” How sad”…I thought this because, of her children, and only her children. Puff Daddy was quoted as saying something cliche about How Kim broke the mold…..well, if she was so wonderful, he should have stayed faithful. Im not going to ask, why he wasnt Faithful…because Ellen Degenerous proved that his ego, is a big old hot mess. Puffy, if this reaches you, good….You have stuck your fishing pole in too many ponds, and now those ponds are drying up and killing what life they had left for the world….and the life that survived it….I pray they have your attention, and that this does not end up like Michael Jackson’s Kids, and Bobby Brown’s daughter. It just blows my mind that all my life, I have wanted to be famous, to have the power to make the world a better place….and the people who have that power…show up in my hometown, to act like they were always there for her. Come on people….Humanity can do better than this…..As Lenny Kravitz says. ….” It ain’t over, ’til it’s over”
I painted this!
https://www.bearawitness.com/home The man who started this site reached out to me, recently. I started following it, and found myself overwhelmed with excitement….I spent 5 months on the street, but for some reason, I never connected with the cause, like brain tumor survivors, and NAMI… When I started reading about it, I’ll be honest….my first notion was to kinda act annoyed, I thought Why are all these people appluading themselves and celebrating their tiny favors to a homeless person….then, Because I operate functionally as ana empath, my instinct was to imagine, what I felt like when I was homeless, and try to remember the favors done for me. I could have gone to jail for not presenting ID at a wreck, I could have dones some unlawful act to get the money a firefighter gave me, to get to the shelter after…I could have been hungry, I coud have had no bed to sleep in, I could have been alone…but none of that happened. My first night, my car broke down and I stayed in a men’s shelter. I bathed in a gas station sink, the second day. The third day I was enrolled in free typing classes, had assigned bunk, and chores. The entire time I was homeless, I never did anything sexual, for money or otherwise…I never stole, and I never lied…I never hitch hiked. I never did drugs. I never wasted my money, and I never lost my faith and hope. WHat’s important here, is that I never lost me. I found me. I found me in atyping class. I found me, in a church food pantry. I found me, in my mental illness. I found me, everywhere that my family wasn’t. I learned to do chores , I learned to get jobs that arent hand picked for you by a family friend. I learned, where I draw the line. When a man threatened to rape and murder me, I drew the line. When the state of california, tried to lock me up, and my mom had me put in a home for people with Schitzophrenia, I drew the line there. Honestly, I dont have schitzophrenia…I am not shy of my mental health, as I have had both a brain tumor, and brain injury….I have Bipolar….and I learned off my meds, was not a way to live…..I found my identity, on the streets in Atlanta, and Hawaii. My biodad is how i Ended up in Hawaii….but the wonderful parent that he is, believed his ex wife, when she falsely accused me of having a gun….years later, as we stood in my home, in downtown ATlanta, that biodad, explained how as a toddler, he had accepted, embraced and welcomed, what he blieved was my swiftly approaching death….but 34 years later, he was clearly wrong. I discovered what mattered to me, on the streets, who was important, and what i wanted out of life….The site I have posted it a link to, is a discussion I am participating in….that to me, is soooo very important for ending stigma, about Homelessness, and Mental Illness.