Being homeless is weird man.
Like one day you’ll be the happiest person there is on earth because a nice lady gave you 20 bucks to go get some food at 7am when it’s freezing outside in the middle of winter.
Or another day you feel like humanity isn’t that bad after all because a group of teens just like you came to your rescue as your were being assaulted by drunk guys for the millionth time.
And then there are other days that sting so bad that they almost don’t feel real.
Like that Halloween night where a friend of mine offered me to come drink a beer in a pub not far from the bridge I used to sleep under.
Everything felt like Christmas, I was in a warm place with nice people, it was amazing..
Until the next morning.
I had been awake for about 5 minutes because my sleeping bag was soaking wet and cold from the humidity dripping from the structure of the bridge onto it.
Suddenly I see something fall from the sky and crash on the road 5 meters away from me.
It wasn’t something. It was someone. Someone who jumped off the bridge.
And that bridge is 23 meters high above the ground.
I see blood. A lot of it. I couldn’t move, so I just squished my eyes together and tilted my head to try and identify the person. And then it struck me.
It was Alex.
Last time I saw him alive was at a music festival in the summer.
Today is Monday, October 31st 2016.
It’s been a year, but we still miss you Alex.
I don’t sleep under that bridge anymore, but the bloodstains are still here.
We love you.
-Your homeless friend