"Burden"

To be a burden. The very thing our dignity can't allow will never allow. When I was homeless I told no one. No friend knew for over a year. No family for longer than that. ...Dignity.

I was able to hide my condition. I still had my job an income insurance, and though fading,...options. I've told that whole story several times here as informal therapy. However there were other conditions that could not be hidden.

Before my street life there was another adventure in trauma. I was caregiver for an older aunt for some years. This as her dementia tumbled on. Slowly she ceased being the loving soul I knew, and became a screaming raging unrecognizable shell.

The details you can imagine. Some of you have been there or will be. It's soul crushing. However both I, and you would do it again in a heartbeat. No matter the cost...even now knowing the cost.

Cost.

This is the point. There was great emotional cost for me during these last twelve years. Caregiving work stress homelessness being forcibly retired recurring illness. Living in relative poverty as a result. All that was my world. That, and now in some ways becoming a burden.
This as I had to take burdens from others once.

I weary of all this.

I'm very tired lonely often ill, and without joy. Old folks have a trail of tears few are interested in. I'm not interested in having them. I should have passed on last year. I was supposed to, but those young doctors insisted on saving my life,...swell.

So on this damp grey rainy early fall, but still too warm day. I whine to the walls, and the world that bothers to come here. 
Mind you despite this crap I still laugh sometimes have happy dreams. 
I have a sister, and friends that want me to stay alive.

I still have my home a few bits of stuff, and at least some sense of a future. Compared to millions even in this country I'm fine. 
As I say I'm just tired. I need a sunny day so I can go to the park. 
That, and one last time to Coney Island till next year. 

So here we are.