“Good News, You Came A Long Way, Bad News, You Went The Wrong Way” ~ J. Cole

I feel like I know Seattle now, and his sparkle is dimming but still is admirable with a cup of coffee. Sweet as a southern gentleman, artistic, familiar, and invasive like a good novel. A smooth criminal, willing to invest all the precious things in life for a come up like a climax, and I am intrigued.The moment I hopped into my first Lyft, my bottom cushioned in the back of a Toyota Prius. Passing through the city to my Airbnb, I saw many nations united in homelessness. It was a silent but massive scope washed across the city, yet still not enough colors to ask questions.

My focus was reverted to the present when I saw a feminine figure with soft bronze skin crossing the street in front of me. I smiled and continued walking when I noticed I was off the route towards the grocery store. Mindlessly turning around, I headed to the corner and turned right. The highly spirited individual sang piercingly and gayly, gradually coasting near me. I was distracted again by this foul play for a haunted drunken night.

My camera took the shot perceptibly when I was greeted loudly. I turned toward the introduction to witness a very petite man, roughly dressed in women’s clothes and braided extensions. The gesture itself was hilarious, so I carried on the conversation because it is the day after Halloween. Attending me, he theatrically narrated his mission to find the illegal drugs he recently dropped. Long-winded sirens sounded in my head; but, I kept my composure. “The store is within 50 feet, and he is on your left side. Walk into the right double door entrance with the locked left door.” I followed this thought, leading him to opaquely talk his self into the locked glass door. I continued walking in the direction of the coffee aisle.

“Coffee and a Lighter,” I jingled in a whisper to a Carole playing on the store speakers. “I paid for a Lyft to a Quality Food Corner yesterday, and there is one less than a mile from the Airbnb. Got to be more careful!” I thought as I picked the individually packaged instant coffee. “Music is so contagious,” a monotone voice rippled in my mind when the cashier offered to assist me with my last listed item, a lighter. Once paid, I thanked the cashier and jocosely walked towards the store exit when the man dressed as the illegal drug queen calls to me within the store. I turned in shock. Not only to see him anxiously greeting me again (because undoubtedly my decision to not be of assistance to his error was not a clear refusal to participate in his search). But also because his theatrical ambiance was losing its character. I smiled in his direction, for some reason, entertaining the unconventional stage he performed on. Once shortly in a distance of the grocery store, he squeals, “There it is!”. He swiftly binds down and picks up a small square bag with a green pattern printed across it.

The sirens in my head were unbearable, and the massive headache created a big bang in my mind, metamorphosing into a migraine due to this man’s actions. Finally, he said with pride and reassurance, “I am a crack head baby.” With this being said, I politely pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and ordered a Lyft. Within two minutes, Guneet arrived in a red Toyota Prius Hatchback. Right on time, if you ask me. I waved my hand, successfully grabbing Guneet’s attention to drive towards me. I explained with a light tone, “This walk to the store is wavering both physically and spiritually. God bless”. I got into the car, leaving him in a classic Fraiser episode.

After listening to this young man’s story of struggles, hallucinate experiences with a powerful addiction, and his sexuality, I realized the streets paved with homelessness isn’t a shallow decision of drugs and independence; but a abusive relationship between power and soverignty. My reaction to this young man’s subconscious outcry was clearly wrong and common. So far I’ve come across two groups of people regarding homelessness, drug dependency, and mental wellness; conservatives and progressives. Conservatives believe in institutional rehab, and progressives believe in mental wellness. Both reside and storm the streets of Seattle and surrounding urban communities. However, I wonder where I am placed as a homeless proactive student with an addition to literacy. More importantly, when are we conquering the noble solution for this strategic tragedy here in the city of Innovation?



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