I am homeless but I wish I was invisible too. Why?

Sometimes I wish I was invisible.
Cause people just don’t care. They just look. They just stare. No one utters a word! I feel absurd.

I know they judge me because I smell of urine, feces and infection. I’m a derelict all haggard and disheveled. I too hate my own relection.

It wasnt always this way. I had a family and a home. I lost it all for going out to roam. Liquor, drugs and seeking prostitutes were my vices. Now my friends are only the lices. How I wish I could go back in time! But I can’t! Maybe I just need to dissapear.

Why are there so many homeless people? Why is there always someone on the train or in the street asking for food or asking for money? Is it always their fault? They stink up the trains. They interrupt our reading. Should they just disappear? Could it ever happen to us? Is it mental illness? Was it their choices that closed doors? I decided to ask.

Stoner as he called himself was only 25. Very attractive if you bathed and clothed him. He told me he was a homosexual. He told his parents at age 16 and he was kicked out the house. They were very religious. He fell into depression and living on the streets wasn’t easy. He was taken in by an older man that prostituted him out in exchange for room and board. He had no choice.

He started begging for money and bought drugs from wherever he could get them. He was 19 and looked older. He needed to numb his feelings. He detested those aggressive men. Then one day he tried to escape and was beaten so badly landing him in the hospital.

One of the nurses told him that God loved him. He was pissed off. His parents told him God had no place for his kind. What God was she taking about?

The hospital gave him money when they discharged him and the kind nurse drove him to the bus depot. She gave him money from her own purse too. He came to NYC on a Greyhound bus. His home and his own town were full of bad memories.

We spoke for almost one hour and I actually had no money to give him so we prayed. We prayed for his parents to have softer hearts. He agreed to enter a drug rehab center to get clean. God loves us all. God is forgiving. I wanted to cry but I held back the tears.

Happy to say that the last time I spoke with him he was clean and living in a small apartment. He was still asking for money but now by playing a guitar and singing. He no longer smelled but still had scars on his face from when he was beaten up. He and his dad were now talking. His mom had passed. He told me he realized God had always been around him.

It’s true everyone has a back story. Perhaps we don’t have to give them money. But please let’s pray for them. Love and prayer doesn’t cost a dime. Prayer does work if we believe. Do you believe?

With love Guady G

Aspie my love

If non verbal autism is silent
You must become silent
You must listen with your heart
Only then can you hear them speak

With much love
Guady G

This is dedicated to my ex-boyfriend who had Asperger  Syndrome which is on the high end of the autism spectrum.  He always wanted to be more of a neurotypical man which means more like a man not on the spectrum at all.  He felt there was something wrong with him. I felt he was just grand.

There is nothing better than being with someone who is super intelligent, super gentle and respectful. Raw honesty was actually healing. He embodied the innocence of a child with the wisdom of an old man. His hugs and kisses were few but always sincere.

Although exhausted from a week’s work he always met me because he said he loved my company. He would sometimes fall asleep mid sentence from exhaustion and awake to say he could go home but preferred to rest by my side.

It ended because he was younger than I and wanted children I could no longer provide. Thanks to the lessons I learned being with him he is now my higher standard for a relationship.  I want an honest, true loving, gentle, intelligent and loyal man. I will no longer accept any less.

Guady G

Please Stop!! Part Four

adult black and white darkness face

Photo by Juan Pablo Arenas on Pexels.com

Matthew kept remembering that night when he invited her to his dorm just to talk some more after spending hours drinking and dancing at Myberi’s Bar.  She had drunk two beers and was tired but she accepted. He had no intentions of doing anything with her but it all changed when they walked into the empty dorm. Mostly everyone had gone home. Suddenly the Viagra and the combination of drinks/drugs started kicking in. He could feel his body wanting to just go on automatic. His thoughts were now foggy and he was experiencing immense pain in his genitalia.

As they approached his dorm room he wanted to tell her to go home but he couldn’t find the words. He really liked Cindy but his bodily urges were winning out. The voice in his head that said slow down was becoming more faint. He wanted her so badly.

She had no clue as to what was going on in his head and in his body.  She continued walking calmly beside him hand in hand. She said she liked him and loved that he was so respectful. He remained quiet as he quickly opened his dorm room door.

Looking back Matthew wished he could go back in time to that very night. He couldn’t and he was so full of regret.  He would shower now and head to class..  Today was another day,  He wondered if he would ever get over it.  Would Cindy?

To be continued……..



Please Stop!!—Part Three

adult black and white darkness face
Photo by Juan Pablo Arenas on Pexels.com

6 am and the alarm clock started beeping. Matthew shut it off and just sat on the edge of his bed. He stared at the ceiling and realized how much he had changed. His roommate had asked to be moved out because Matthew was no longer himself. He missed Ravi. It was always cool having someone to chat with. Ravi stopped talking to him and would pretend he didn’t know him when he saw him on the Quad.  Matthew wondered if Cindy had told Ravi anything.

Thoughts of Cindy then flooded his brain.  That night at the bar was so vivid now. He could still feel his heart fluttering as he remembered when he approached Cindy at the bar.  She was always receptive to him which made him ecstatic.  Something about her made him want to propose to her that night.  She was the type of girl you married. She wasn’t like those girls you just had sex with and later dumped. She was different and she was special.

He recalled those 1.5  hours talking with her about various subjects and that burning desire he had had to kiss her.  The Beastie Boys was playing on the jukebox and she wanted to dance.  She sang out loud “You have to fight for your right to parrrrteeee!”  He got up and jumped around with her.  It was her favorite song.  Song after song he danced with her until a slow song came on and she suddenly became sad.  He then approached her slowly. He placed his right hand on her left shoulder and leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. She smiled once again.

He felt a swell of great emotions in his being. He loved that he could make her happy. He liked her and she liked him. Perhaps she would become his girlfriend. Only time would tell.

He now put his hand to his lips and could still feel her lips on his. It was a special kiss he had shared that night with her during Freshman Year. He wanted to call her but he knew he couldn’t.

To be continued. . . .


Please Stop!! Part Two

adult black and white darkness face
Photo by Juan Pablo Arenas on Pexels.com

When Matthew went to the bar during that spring break he had taken some Viagra and a mixture of other drugs.  He was on a high and spotted Cindy sitting by the bar. He had always liked her from Biology class. She was funny, corky and the way she flipped her hair around when she asked questions in class always turned him on a bit more everyday.

Cindy had hair that was chestnut-brown with a few streaks of blonde. He loved her wavy hair. When she walked into the classroom it was as if she were gliding. So many mornings he wished she would just glide on over to sit next to him but she never did.  He had developed such a crush on her. He had spoken with her before but it was always related to the class.  He would  tell her jokes about the professor Mr. Weiner.  It was easy to poke fun about his name alone.  He recalled her laughter and now it made him cry.

His guilt kept consuming him daily. He felt horrible and thought perhaps he should just report himself.  He never did  because he aspired to do great things with his life.  He couldn’t do them behind bars.  He needed to finish school. He had to repress those memories even further down. It was becoming more difficult though and he felt he had no choice.  He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror anymore.

He would find solace in his sleep. A little bit of lorazepam  would help with that.  He was grateful he had been able to take some from his grandmother’s medicine cabinet.

To be continued. . . .