Because I'm not allowed to ask for money anymore, though I must point out I haven't bought any drugs in close to a week...
So yeah, I'm unhoused again. I think. Pic is Ft. Rachel, which I just set up and at first it made me sad because the tarp looked trashy but I'm proud of the end result.
I need a fucking shower. I'm still paying my half of the rent for the basement I guess but I can't take a shower because of lice upstairs. I'm in SE, near the Lloyd Center, and I have no money to reload my Hop card so I'm stranded here until tomorrow morning when my employee charges at work reload.
I also need a change of clothes (small or medium t-shirt, "men's" size ~28 jeans ideally, 30 will probably do, small "men's" underwear, and holy fuck socks). A flannel button-down or hoodie would be nice. And a better jacket.
Be advised, I'm picky about style and I was picky about style even on the streets. Don't judge me.
I also need,
- Blankets/bedding/a sleeping bag.
- A lamp or two.
- Another tarp.
- Tactical gloves. *A machete and/or some other kind badass knife that can chop wood and chop skulls.
- One of those cooler things so I can store perishable crap.
- Plastic utensils/paper plates.
- Totes for storage.
- Feed me.
That's all I can think of at the moment anyways.
Thanks.
Rachel out.
P.S. I was hoping to get a badass 4 season USMC tent or something from Andy & Bax when I get paid next week. If you have a badass tent that will make look stupid please let me have it.
My friend and campmate who I'll call Ben has a sick camp, and a tent that doesn't even look like a tent inside. I'm coming after his ass.
Be advised, I’m picky about style and I was picky about style even on the streets. Don’t judge me.
Is this a bit
I was homeless for two fucking years. I was so oppressed by my weirdo father that I was emotionally stunted at the age of 25. I went from sheltered closeted trans woman-child to homeless trans girl in literally the course of a day. I didn't drink or smoke weed until I was 25 because my father was both so controlling and stupid-tier anti-drug, which is no small part of why I became an addict.
Part of why I left home was gender identity and my father's transphobia and controlling every aspect of my self. When I was unhoused being trans gave me a little bit of a leg up. People would give me money because I was young and cute and LGBT and had a sad story. So instead of going to the church feedings I'd go to the grocery store and buy vegan instant pad thai. Some days I'd get a $20 from someone and I'd go get Thai food. It made me feel good. So did buying my own clothes and shoes. I bought my first pair of Doc Martens (used) with money I made panhandling, saved up over the week (I wasn't like making bank or anything). I felt human and pushed back against the dehumanization I felt as a homeless person. I participated in activist shit. Cute girls talked to me while I was spanging (panhandling).
Point of all this is, you're not my comrade. You're not even a leftist. You're a fucking douchebag.
Seriously though I didn't do anything wrong and I've never meant any ill will or shady intent to anything or anyone. And you treat me like I'm a fucking piece of shit. All I did was ask for help. Not even monetary help. Just a place to shower and like, some tarps and socks and shit. I try so hard to be nice to everyone. I'll even be nice to people who hurt me over and over again. And it's not just you who treat me like this. People always fucking hate me for some reason. And this isn't fucking me being manipulative and melodramatic. This is how it feels. I have days where I feel nothing but emptiness. And you just laugh. I could (could, I'm being hypothetical, I am not suicidal and I'm not having suicidal thoughts) inject a bunch of H to kill myself and you'd downvote the thread about the person I used to be and comment about what a little piece of shit I was. Even though all I ever did was try to help, and keep myself going.
And I'll keep trying to help. Even if everyone thinks I'm fucking shit, I know I'm not. The people who know me the best know I'm not. That's all that matters. I'll take the fucking beatings and keep trying.
I wish you didn't hate me.
I make, on average, $1,400 a month. I get paid every two weeks. One of my former roommates doesn't work and his partner works part time, so I have often been the one to support them. I pay both our phone bills and the internet bill. They occasionally decide unilaterally that it's my turn to pay for groceries, twist my arm for $200, and then spend $150 on weed (I don't smoke, really). I buy food and supplies for my unhoused friends. Sometimes they come to me for help getting well and I cover it. It keeps the peace and keeps me from having to see my friends flop out.
Because I don't want more conflict than there is already with my roommate bugging me to come clean up my half of the basement, and I don't want them to become unhoused again, and be another two people who tell everyone what a fucking evil person I am.
stop fucking begging for money here and stop funding abusers
Stop fucking harassing me. I just asked for help. I would've given everything I didn't need to my friends. My unhoused friends. Fuck off. I'm literally in a fucking tent shivering. The three fucking layers of clothes and the blanket and the candles aren't working so well. And you're attacking me? I never hurt anyone. I never meant any harm. I had no nefarious intent ever, ever, ever.
seems low given the amount of overtime you’ve described
On average my income is $1,400 a month.
That's all I'm gonna say, punk. I owe you nothing. Get fucked.
I became homeless the first time because my father was killing me. His emotional and sometimes physical abuse almost drove me to suicide, so I chose life in a form most would consider more akin to purgatory.
This second time around it's because I cannot fucking live in that basement with those two fucks, my roommates. One is controlling and mean. The other never talks to me and makes me feel alone.
I stopped taking my HRT after a year being on it because of healthcare bullshit. I got back on after months of trying to get the money (when I was on Medicaid it was free). I kept forgetting to take them. I lost my spiro, and then I just stopped caring. The estrogen sits on my shelf like a doll a child doesn't play with anymore.
I chose to be outside again for my mental health. My roommates pollute the air with their fucking video games and television shows. I can't think when I'm there. I can't sleep. I go to the bathroom to do dope every five minutes because it's so fucking miserable there.
I almost fucking froze to death last night.
Keep telling me my own life story, coward.
Lol registered five minutes ago to post this. I see you've given up on trying to gaslight and concern troll.
Houseless comrades have wants along with their needs, just like everyone. If looking good is important for OP's mental health then hell yeah OP deserves some stylish clothes. I just donated a fuckton of clothes and supplies, as well as an old Xbox 360 to a houseless family temporarily living in a hotel, and the highlight was def the Xbox.
Clack on that keyboard lil punk b0i. Lil bitch. Fuck your mother. And fuck you.
I think I hear your mom calling you, lil b0i. Gotta stop clacking on that keyboard at some point.
It's absolutely true. I never like, wore church clothing closet clothes. I always panhandled and bought clothes that looked good. I bought nail polish.
Unfucking real that you are still trying to take advantage of people's kindness here.
Take advantage? I was asking if anyone could let me take a shower at their place or kick me down some socks...because I'm unhoused again. I specifically said no cash. Even though I literally have $2. I'll work with it.
I never did anything wrong in the first place. What you believe about me is wrong. You don't know me.
I had roommates who were manipulative/emotionally abusive. They pushed me to ask for money to register our van.
I don't really care about the van. If we had lost our housing, they would have cashed me out for my half of what we put into it and kicked me to the curb. We had lived together in the van for nine months, and they decided they didn't want to live in such close quarters with me again. I have fond memories of the three of us in the van. Being housed has only made me miserable.
So they kept putting off the registration shit. Then they basically arm-twisted me into the road trip. One of them had a really painful tooth ache or something and was really mean to me the entire time, while the other one said absolutely nothing and did absolutely nothing to make it better. It permanently damaged my relationship with them.
At that point I regarded the money as my savings. It was continually being added to with my paychecks. And this was back when I was only doing a gram a week at most.
They basically forced me to pay for expensive ass hotel rooms and shit. We were going to just camp in the van but they decided they wanted to stay at fucking hotels. Then they decided to extend the trip and drive to the Bay Area.
There's a girl I'm hopelessly in love with who at the time lived on a farm in the Sierras. I wanted to go see her but we never stopped. I wanted to see a good friend of mine who lived in the Bay Area but they just wanted to take a picture of the Pride flag in the Castro and get a hotel room by SFO.
I have no spine. That's my problem. I never meant to hurt anyone. I knew they would do this. They kept making me beg for money, and it hurt my reputation irreparably.
And I was detoxing the entire trip, btw.
But of course, you'll deny all of this. YOU KNOW NOTHING but just like a fucking chud you hear a lie and make it a hagiography.
If I could I would give all the fucking money back. I once paid a friend's $50 drug debt to keep him safe. I'm going to keep paying my half of the rent even though I don't live there anymore, because I don't want my roommates to be homeless. And I would pay that money back even though it wasn't my fault, just because it might make you guys love me again.
Do you have a post box or someone else who can collect mail? Trying to figure out how to do this anonymously.
The Anarchist's Guide to Travel: A manual for future hitchhikers, hobos, and other misfit wanderers. basically mentions that you can send mail to a Post Office to be "held" until you get there. I forget if they charge for that service, but you can use that for job applications and the like possibly.
And if somehow my situation changes at the last minute like my pinball insane life always goes, I'll make sure this shit gets to those who need it.
Brigade of abusive dipshits pretending to be long-standing members, who literally operate by harassing me until I have a meltdown, and then point at me and say how unstable and fucked up I am.
