theredbaron

Today has been a long, hard, strange day. Ive been working at a shelter for my schools work term, for those who dont know. And thats where I was today. It was a dull day. Run of the mill, until two Oclock. I was in the kitchen doing what needed to be done, and one of the daily clients walks in the door. He speaks to Greg, one of the long term volunteers there, and before I know it I am being whisked off to drive him and one other worker bee, Ann somewhere. I knew whatever it was, was important by the tone in Gregs voice. Beyond that, not a clue. I dropped what I was doing and grabbed my coat and scarf. As I threw them on and headed for the door, flanked by Greg and Ann. As I climbed the stairs out of the shelter I heard a lot of murmuring from the crowd inside. It was a deafeningly muted din, and all I could clearly discern maybe hes just passed out, he liked to drink; but this was enough. I hopped in my aunts car, and backed out of the lot, nicking a green Nissan in my removed haste. I asked Greg what had happened, and where I was going. To the library. They think Terry is dead. The library was a whopping five blocks away, but Ill be damned if they we rent the longest five blocks in all of history. Terry, Harmonica T, was one of the shelters most vivacious clients. He was full of music and energy (and occasionally liquor); and could play the blues with one hand behind his back, which frequently did while panhandling. As we turned the last corner we saw police tape, scrawled between the bare trees in front of the vaulted library archway. Pulling in to the lot of my old alma mater a cruiser became visible. Greg was the first out of the car, barely waiting for it to come to a stop. The body was covered in white plastic, but Greg only needed take one look at the belongings sitting beside the bench before he cod confirm with tearful eyes its him. Six feet tall, four-hundred pounds, and crying openly. I didnt know him well enough to have an immediate reaction, I guess. I just kind of stood there in shock. As the adults sprung in to action and started working out where they could find his next of kin, I could only sit in the kitchen of the shelter, and remember the line from Donnie Darko Every living creature on earth dies alone. A day ago, I had heard this man sing, and so arbitrarily his spark was extinguished. He froze to death during the night, laying on a bench outside of my old school. Probably intoxicated. How much more alone could one be? The thought makes my blood run cold. How fragile we are. By 3:30, he was gone. All that was left of him was a forgotten bedroll and the shreds of police tape discarded in a nearby trash can. I spent the rest of the day feeling more deeply and profoundly alone than I have since my angsty teenage years. Lonely for company and companionship. And lonely for someone to call my own, my heart. And so I remain, in need of liquor or a friend. And I seem to be fresh out of friends. Suffice to say this hasnt helped one bit in my feeling isolated, as I have the past few days. So I guess Ill go have a good mope.
I apologize for the outpouring of emotion. Even the stoic have sometimes to fail.