****NAMES
CHANGED TO PROTECT PORTLAND'S STREET KIDS*****
My whole point of this blog is to keep people from worrying. Unfortunately, I also cannot lie. So, I dread when my friends will be reading this one. But, I will be okay. I am going to go and get things taken care of as soon as day services open in 30 minutes. I will have Bitch Lady's job. Promise.
Thursday night was crazy as fuck. Drama Girl, Stripper Man, and Rocky all came in drunk. Drama Girl wasn't so bad as Jesus and I were able to keep her drinking water. She was ranting to Jesus about how she was convinced Dreadlocks was late getting to shelter because he was cheating on her.
Thursday night was crazy as fuck. Drama Girl, Stripper Man, and Rocky all came in drunk. Drama Girl wasn't so bad as Jesus and I were able to keep her drinking water. She was ranting to Jesus about how she was convinced Dreadlocks was late getting to shelter because he was cheating on her.
"I'm not the most attractive girl," she moaned, "And he can get any girl he wants."
"Why would he waste his time with you if he didn't love you and he could have any girl?" Jesus asked her.
I busied myself with getting water for her and watching Jack and Jill. I am honestly running out of things to say to her. Sometimes I just want to shake her and tell her she's crazy. Plus I figured if hearing it from a girl wasn't working maybe someone of the male species might be more successful.
A few minutes later her eyes got wide like a little kid and she mumbled, "He's here."
Dreadlocks came in and threw a Safeway bag at her feet. It clumped loudly on the floor and red roses spilled out. Along with them came a pink "baby girl" balloon. His apology for missing court.
"See he does love you." Jesus said and her eyes welled up with tears.
Jesus and I pounded fists. it's easy to question why I spend my time trying to be so nice to Drama Girl after she threatened to beat me up. I really don't care so much about the threats since I wasn't really aware of them at the time. And besides the fact that I just like to help people, it is what I call my 'game to not get shanked at night'. I actually genuinely want her and Dreadlocks to be happy because then we all benefit. Everyone in the shelter wins because we have to see less fighting and drama. And then they win because they're happy. It's a win-win for everybody.
After this I look up and see Rocky falling over in the hallway to the boys' dorm. A staff guy I don't really know is practically carrying him to the dorm as he falls on the floor. He sways somewhere between laughing and crying. Jesus and I have thrown a bunch of blankets on the floor in the television area so I poke him with my elbow.
"Dude, Rocky just came in drunk." I tell him.
We watch as the staff member tries to get Rocky into bed but he somehow stumbles into the common area and falls almost on top of us.
"How much did you drink?" I ask him.
"A fifth of vodka."
"Have you had any water?"
"I can't remember."
"Have you had any?"
"I had a fifth of water."
I consider getting Rocky some water but figure even if I did it would probably end up being spilled on top of us. I determine he is a lost cause. He waivers between being coherent and not. At one point he doesn't know where he is. I encourage him to go to bed. He's too far gone for saving. Then Stripper Man comes in drunk. He and Gold start arguing in the corner of the television room.
"Let's get out of here early tomorrow." I tell Jesus. I do not want to nurse multiple hangovers. Why everyone got drunk on a Thursday I do not know.
I asked staff if I could do a load of laundry. Generally, this is supposed to be done at day services (and I just learned we had the resources yesterday) but I had planned on doing laundry at a friend's house. This was of course before the bridge broke down while I was sitting on the max.
"Pretty, pretty please. I smell so bad I can't stand my own stink." I asked Blue Eyes folding my hands in front of my chin like a prayer and sticking out my bottom lip.
"Alright but this is a one time exception." Blue Eyes told me.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." I said, "I'm so happy I could hug you."
A kid I don't know shook my hand, "That's the best begging I've seen in a long time."
A kid I don't know shook my hand, "That's the best begging I've seen in a long time."
When my clothes were almost dry I got things together to shower. I shaved my legs and for the first time in weeks slipped into clean pajamas with smooth shaved legs. It felt wonderful. Never, ever take for granted the feeling of clean laundry and shaved legs.
Before bed Jesus made an insensitive comment about my slow metabolism and how I can't "get away with eating preservatives". I have body issues as I used to be under 100 pounds before I was put on too many medications and started messing around with bulimia. He continued on about how I have the potential to be fat so I went off to bed without saying goodnight.
He left without saying anything to me this morning which was just fine. It was one of those mornings where anyone who is a true Portlander can look out the window and tell it's going to rain. I ended up walking to day services alone which again felt weird. I forgot to take my Cymbalta, and instead of walking back to get it I decided to skip it all together.
Why do I make such bad decisions sometimes?
As I was waiting for the elevator to turn on he came in. We acted as normal until we were in line for breakfast and I started saying things like, "Oh I want everything. I want to get fat." The lady handing out food had no idea what I was talking about and said, "Well if you want to get fat you should eat more butter."
"I see what you did there." said Jesus.
"Mmm preservatives." I said shoving oatmeal with brown sugar into my mouth.
"I know what you're trying to do and it's not working." Jesus said.
Fat Man sat with us and I carried on. I don't remember if it was Jesus or me who told Fat Man what was said last night. Fat Man grimaced at him, "You said that to a woman. You don't do that. Anything with the body is a sensitive topic. You always tell her she looks beautiful no matter what."
"You know I have body image issues." I shrieked at Jesus as he went off on some rant about how it was innocent.
"I thought you were joking." He said, "I didn't think anyone that small could have body image issues."
"I thought you were joking." He said, "I didn't think anyone that small could have body image issues."
"I'm fat." Fat Boy said, "You are not fat."
After breakfast Jesus got moody refusing anything I suggested to do so in the end I just left him. I decided to hop on the red line to go to Cascade station in hopes my friend who lives on the line would be available so I could get into my suitcase and see Spencer. I tried to buy a bus ticket but the machine wasn't working. I got on the max and contemplated several times about jumping off to buy a ticket at a next stop but I didn't think I could make it out and back in in time with all my bags. I should have. A ticket inspector came on the train and mercilessly wrote me a $175 ticket.
Fuck. My. Life.
I ended up going to Ross since that would be cheaper for clothes. I was able to find a pack of shirts, a pair of basketball shorts, and some socks for Jesus. The poor kid doesn't have any change of clothes and he is starting to reek. I met back up with Jesus at the library and surprised him with the clothing.
"It's a gift for me too." I told him, "I don't have to smell your dirty socks anymore."
Which is true. His gross dirty sock smell was mostly what motivated me to get the spare set of clothing for him. He only has two pairs of socks and they smell so bad I've had to attack both his feet and socks with foot powder spray before. I almost painted the whole television area white. Now we don't have to stoop to such levels anymore.
We went back down to Hell and stayed there for most of the afternoon watching Ducktales and playing with Jesus' glow sticks. Our lunch was ice cream, snickers, and tootsie pops. I'm pretty much always cold and Hell isn't exactly warm. It's usually warmer than the rainy weather above it, but laying on the concrete is freezing. Jesus on the other hand is his own furnace. I huddled close to him to soak up his body heat.
We talked about going to the Rescue Mission to get blankets but knew we needed a place to hide them first. We went to scour for a hiding spot finding some poor old homeless guy's pitiful porn stash in the process. We decided that hiding blankets under the concrete slabs on the side of the garage would be the best idea. Just as we were deciding this a security guard on his bike came riding down and followed us. This for me was my most awkward homeless moment I've had."What are you doing here?" He asked.
The answer was quite obvious. We had clothes and candy wrappers strewn about like a moat around our mini camp. My laptop was sitting on top of my suitcase playing Ducktales so loudly it echoed through the whole garage. My bag of clothes had an imprint of both our heads on it from the two of us using it as a pillow. Anyone could look at that mess and know it was made from two homeless kids camping out.
"We're waiting for our friend." Jesus said.
"Well, you can't wait down here." Security Guard Man said.
He parked his bike and stared at us while we packed up our stuff. I felt like an animal at a zoo. Watch the homeless kid exhibit where you can see two bums clean up their stuff when kicked out sleeping spot. We went to Powell's book store where we recorded Jesus reading "Go the fuck to sleep" and just dicked around for the hour or so we had to kill. Jesus got moody again and stormed off.
It was storming outside as I walked back to shelter alone. I found a place to sit that was some what dry by the fountain where we sit and wait until shelter opens. Only one other kid was there. Everyone else had sought out shelter by McDonalds or the Dollar Tree. I called my dearest friend Spock to rant about my shitty day and Jesus' shitty attitude.
"Doesn't he have mental issues?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, that's why he's being a jerk." she said.
"So, that doesn't excuse it. I have mental issues and I don't use it as a reason to be a jerk."
"Yes, but you've been properly diagnosed and have been medicine and therapy complaint. He hasn't been. He doesn't have the leg up you have with having already been dealing with this for five years. And even you get bitchy when you get upset. I get bitchy when I'm upset. Cut him some slack."
"I'll think about it." I grumbled.
Don't you hate it when someone's right like that?
As soon as I got into shelter I took my Cymbalta and got my shower. Jesus got to pick the movie that night as he was the first one signed in. He picked "A Christmas Story" which made me happy. We both took our showers at the same as Jesus insists this is our "tradition". Then, I ripped the covers off of my bed and made my spot on the floor of the television area. Jesus brought me a peace offering of half a cookies and cream pie slice. We ate the pie and acted as if nothing else was said or done between us during the day.
I thought that getting a ticket and feuding with Jesus would fill my shit quota for the day but I was very wrong. Pot Head decided to get into a fight with some other kid. They decided to kick me in the head at least three times in the process. I screamed and threw up my hands to attempt to protect my head from further kicks. This was pretty useless and the kicks kept coming making contact with my very fragile, pretty head. August came in and broke up the fight, pushing Pot Head against the wall and the other on the couch. Then she asks the other punchy kicky guy if he's okay but simply ignores me holding my head.
"Seriously, you're going to ask him if he's okay but not me?" I accused.
"Oh, yeah. Are you okay?" August asked.
"I just got kicked in the head three times. No, I'm not okay."
Apparently causing a possible head injury isn't too big of a deal in shelter though as the only punishment the boys got were being told to apologize. They were smiling when they did. This was not very satisfying. I asked for ibuprofen to try and help with the swelling and the Bitch Lady gave me three pills.
"I need four." I told her but, she refused to give me another. Mind you I've been on narcotics for over a year. I'm pretty much immune to Ibuprofen. I went and sat at a table rubbing my head, feeling miserable. Gang Banger Dude (another kid in shelter) came over and told me he intended to take care of Pot Head.
"What does that mean?" I was a little afraid to ask.
"I'm going to put him in the hospital." Gang Banger Dude told me.
I was kind of at a loss for words on this one. Gang Banger Dude is kind of scary. I think he actually kind of looks like my brother and I know my brother will do crazy ass shit. He always wears his gang colors/uniform and he looks like he wouldn't have a second thought about killing someone. As much as I hate Pot Head I don't actually want him hurt. Okay, maybe I wouldn't mind him getting kicked in the head a few times to make things even.
"What was that?" Jesus asked.
"I think I just got Pot Head killed."
"Uh oh."
I wasn't sure what to do about the situation besides let it be. I don't really know Gang Banger Dude so he may not do anything at all. Or he might. But, no way in Hell I'm going to be the person who rats out a gang member.
I rested my sore head on my arms on the table.
"My head and neck hurt." I moaned, "Wonder how that happened?"
"Stressful day?" Jesus asked running his finger up and down my arm.
"No shit." I mumbled.
"Not like I didn't cause 90% of it either." Jesus said.
"No."
I asked Bitch Lady for my nighttime medication.
"What was it you took earlier?" she demanded.
"It was what I usually take in the morning. I forgot it this morning so I took it tonight."
"Well I don't think I can give you any other medication tonight." she said.
"Excuse me?"
If there's one thing you don't do to me it is withhold my medications. I've had this done to me in one other place. I screamed at them for hours until they gave it to me. I wouldn't exactly take that approach now as I've matured a little more since I was 16; however, I don't play.
"Well, we can't have you overdosing."
"Overdosing? I used to take them both together at the same time for months. I only switched because Cymbalta sometimes keeps me up."
This carried on for awhile. After I finally got my meds I told Bitch Lady, "I will be taking this up with whoever your boss is."
"She's just a bitch," Vampire Girl said to me about Bitch Lady as I was on my way to bed.
Bitch Lady started yelling at me again, "You have a BLA now."
Now, a BLA is where you have to sleep outside of the shelter for X amount of time for breaking some sort of rule. The rules are no sex, no violence, no drugs. But, the boys didn't get BLAs for kicking me in the head. I got one for asking for my medication. I flipped the fuck out. I sought out other staff members who had been walking through the shelter door at that time.
"Where can you talk to someone about staff problems?" I asked him.
He tried to talk to me but at the thought of sleeping outside I started having a panic attack. I was hyperventilating and little of what I was saying was coherent. He tried to calm me down but I just became more upset as he was saying there was no one I could talk to until Monday or Tuesday. Bitch Lady came walking through and interrupted our conversation yelling, "She called me a bitch."
"I did not call you a bitch." I barely got out.
With staff man saying I had no options I started freaking out more than I was before I started talking to him. This became a very tangled mess as multiple people were trying to talk to me, Bitch Lady was walking in and out yelling, and kids were coming into the doorway to try and see what the hell was happening. August came out to try and talk to me and I asked her how it was that I was getting a BLA but not the boys who beat the shit out of me.
"Well, I didn't see the boys kick you." August said.
"I'm damn sure you heard me screaming."
"I did hear you scream."
"So, how is it she can claim I called her a bitch and that counts as witnessing but you can hear me getting beat up but that doesn't count?"
She sort of just shrugged. She said she didn't agree with the BLA but said there wasn't anything she could do.
Flippy Hair Guy was in the shelter too at this time and he kind of looked on pathetically. We had been playing Rummy before all of this started and he had said that they should have done more about the kicks to my head but he's on the very bottom totem pole of staff. He gave me a look that said, I hate my job and said goodnight and left. I waved my hand weakly. I had already lost circulation in my fingers at this point.
I lost feeling in my lips, toes, and hands. I can't even remember the last time I had a panic attack that bad. You can't die from a panic attack which is what keeps me out of the hospital most of the time when I have attacks. However, I've had one pain attack in my life that was so severe I lost so much oxygen that my arm bent itself up and everything cramped. I cannot think of anyway to describe that pain but it scared the shit out of me. I looked like I was a kid in one of those exorcism movies.
I was afraid of this happening again. I was terrified of getting sent to the hospital. They would sedate me and then send me out. I'd be on the streets sedated. That idea terrified me more. I was even worse off after thinking about this.
Vampire Girl admitted that she was the one who called Bitch Lady a bitch. Still, I was the one getting the BLA. We pointed out that this made no sense but Bitch Lady wouldn't budge. Even though I hadn't done anything I was getting kicked out.
Another girl came out and sat on the chair next to me. I've never talked to her before but we sleep in the same room. I've always been semi curious about her. She wears boy clothing and has a shaved head. She was wearing a cami tank top and no bra. Her tiny pointy boobs popped out of her chest with her nipple eyes staring right at me.
It was our first ever conversation but she insisted that I squeeze her hand. She told me she would get me knives and pepper spray. She got me a grievance form. She eventually calmed me down, "You don't want to pass out because then they have to call an ambulance and take you to the hospital." She told me she shaves her head and wears men's clothing to prevent her from getting raped on the street.
When I woke up in the morning Bitch Lady said she revoked her BLA but she was still writing an incident report. It scares me knowing now that staff can kick me out whenever they feel like it regardless of I did something or not. It scares me that I can get a concussion and the person who did it gets no repercussions. My feeling of security is very much gone.
On top of that my head hurts a lot. I'm certain I have a concussion as it hurts a million times worse than it did when I got one in a moped accident. It feels like my eyes are getting pushed out of their sockets and the sides of my head are in a vice. But, I don't want to go to the doctor. I don't want to have to explain that I got this injury by getting kicked around in the homeless shelter. I'm fucked.
--mm
After breakfast Jesus got moody refusing anything I suggested to do so in the end I just left him. I decided to hop on the red line to go to Cascade station in hopes my friend who lives on the line would be available so I could get into my suitcase and see Spencer. I tried to buy a bus ticket but the machine wasn't working. I got on the max and contemplated several times about jumping off to buy a ticket at a next stop but I didn't think I could make it out and back in in time with all my bags. I should have. A ticket inspector came on the train and mercilessly wrote me a $175 ticket.
Fuck. My. Life.
I ended up going to Ross since that would be cheaper for clothes. I was able to find a pack of shirts, a pair of basketball shorts, and some socks for Jesus. The poor kid doesn't have any change of clothes and he is starting to reek. I met back up with Jesus at the library and surprised him with the clothing.
"It's a gift for me too." I told him, "I don't have to smell your dirty socks anymore."
Which is true. His gross dirty sock smell was mostly what motivated me to get the spare set of clothing for him. He only has two pairs of socks and they smell so bad I've had to attack both his feet and socks with foot powder spray before. I almost painted the whole television area white. Now we don't have to stoop to such levels anymore.
We went back down to Hell and stayed there for most of the afternoon watching Ducktales and playing with Jesus' glow sticks. Our lunch was ice cream, snickers, and tootsie pops. I'm pretty much always cold and Hell isn't exactly warm. It's usually warmer than the rainy weather above it, but laying on the concrete is freezing. Jesus on the other hand is his own furnace. I huddled close to him to soak up his body heat.
We talked about going to the Rescue Mission to get blankets but knew we needed a place to hide them first. We went to scour for a hiding spot finding some poor old homeless guy's pitiful porn stash in the process. We decided that hiding blankets under the concrete slabs on the side of the garage would be the best idea. Just as we were deciding this a security guard on his bike came riding down and followed us. This for me was my most awkward homeless moment I've had."What are you doing here?" He asked.
The answer was quite obvious. We had clothes and candy wrappers strewn about like a moat around our mini camp. My laptop was sitting on top of my suitcase playing Ducktales so loudly it echoed through the whole garage. My bag of clothes had an imprint of both our heads on it from the two of us using it as a pillow. Anyone could look at that mess and know it was made from two homeless kids camping out.
"We're waiting for our friend." Jesus said.
"Well, you can't wait down here." Security Guard Man said.
He parked his bike and stared at us while we packed up our stuff. I felt like an animal at a zoo. Watch the homeless kid exhibit where you can see two bums clean up their stuff when kicked out sleeping spot. We went to Powell's book store where we recorded Jesus reading "Go the fuck to sleep" and just dicked around for the hour or so we had to kill. Jesus got moody again and stormed off.
It was storming outside as I walked back to shelter alone. I found a place to sit that was some what dry by the fountain where we sit and wait until shelter opens. Only one other kid was there. Everyone else had sought out shelter by McDonalds or the Dollar Tree. I called my dearest friend Spock to rant about my shitty day and Jesus' shitty attitude.
"Doesn't he have mental issues?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, that's why he's being a jerk." she said.
"So, that doesn't excuse it. I have mental issues and I don't use it as a reason to be a jerk."
"Yes, but you've been properly diagnosed and have been medicine and therapy complaint. He hasn't been. He doesn't have the leg up you have with having already been dealing with this for five years. And even you get bitchy when you get upset. I get bitchy when I'm upset. Cut him some slack."
"I'll think about it." I grumbled.
Don't you hate it when someone's right like that?
As soon as I got into shelter I took my Cymbalta and got my shower. Jesus got to pick the movie that night as he was the first one signed in. He picked "A Christmas Story" which made me happy. We both took our showers at the same as Jesus insists this is our "tradition". Then, I ripped the covers off of my bed and made my spot on the floor of the television area. Jesus brought me a peace offering of half a cookies and cream pie slice. We ate the pie and acted as if nothing else was said or done between us during the day.
I thought that getting a ticket and feuding with Jesus would fill my shit quota for the day but I was very wrong. Pot Head decided to get into a fight with some other kid. They decided to kick me in the head at least three times in the process. I screamed and threw up my hands to attempt to protect my head from further kicks. This was pretty useless and the kicks kept coming making contact with my very fragile, pretty head. August came in and broke up the fight, pushing Pot Head against the wall and the other on the couch. Then she asks the other punchy kicky guy if he's okay but simply ignores me holding my head.
"Seriously, you're going to ask him if he's okay but not me?" I accused.
"Oh, yeah. Are you okay?" August asked.
"I just got kicked in the head three times. No, I'm not okay."
Apparently causing a possible head injury isn't too big of a deal in shelter though as the only punishment the boys got were being told to apologize. They were smiling when they did. This was not very satisfying. I asked for ibuprofen to try and help with the swelling and the Bitch Lady gave me three pills.
"I need four." I told her but, she refused to give me another. Mind you I've been on narcotics for over a year. I'm pretty much immune to Ibuprofen. I went and sat at a table rubbing my head, feeling miserable. Gang Banger Dude (another kid in shelter) came over and told me he intended to take care of Pot Head.
"What does that mean?" I was a little afraid to ask.
"I'm going to put him in the hospital." Gang Banger Dude told me.
I was kind of at a loss for words on this one. Gang Banger Dude is kind of scary. I think he actually kind of looks like my brother and I know my brother will do crazy ass shit. He always wears his gang colors/uniform and he looks like he wouldn't have a second thought about killing someone. As much as I hate Pot Head I don't actually want him hurt. Okay, maybe I wouldn't mind him getting kicked in the head a few times to make things even.
"What was that?" Jesus asked.
"I think I just got Pot Head killed."
"Uh oh."
I wasn't sure what to do about the situation besides let it be. I don't really know Gang Banger Dude so he may not do anything at all. Or he might. But, no way in Hell I'm going to be the person who rats out a gang member.
I rested my sore head on my arms on the table.
"My head and neck hurt." I moaned, "Wonder how that happened?"
"Stressful day?" Jesus asked running his finger up and down my arm.
"No shit." I mumbled.
"Not like I didn't cause 90% of it either." Jesus said.
"No."
I asked Bitch Lady for my nighttime medication.
"What was it you took earlier?" she demanded.
"It was what I usually take in the morning. I forgot it this morning so I took it tonight."
"Well I don't think I can give you any other medication tonight." she said.
"Excuse me?"
If there's one thing you don't do to me it is withhold my medications. I've had this done to me in one other place. I screamed at them for hours until they gave it to me. I wouldn't exactly take that approach now as I've matured a little more since I was 16; however, I don't play.
"Well, we can't have you overdosing."
"Overdosing? I used to take them both together at the same time for months. I only switched because Cymbalta sometimes keeps me up."
This carried on for awhile. After I finally got my meds I told Bitch Lady, "I will be taking this up with whoever your boss is."
"She's just a bitch," Vampire Girl said to me about Bitch Lady as I was on my way to bed.
Bitch Lady started yelling at me again, "You have a BLA now."
Now, a BLA is where you have to sleep outside of the shelter for X amount of time for breaking some sort of rule. The rules are no sex, no violence, no drugs. But, the boys didn't get BLAs for kicking me in the head. I got one for asking for my medication. I flipped the fuck out. I sought out other staff members who had been walking through the shelter door at that time.
"Where can you talk to someone about staff problems?" I asked him.
He tried to talk to me but at the thought of sleeping outside I started having a panic attack. I was hyperventilating and little of what I was saying was coherent. He tried to calm me down but I just became more upset as he was saying there was no one I could talk to until Monday or Tuesday. Bitch Lady came walking through and interrupted our conversation yelling, "She called me a bitch."
"I did not call you a bitch." I barely got out.
With staff man saying I had no options I started freaking out more than I was before I started talking to him. This became a very tangled mess as multiple people were trying to talk to me, Bitch Lady was walking in and out yelling, and kids were coming into the doorway to try and see what the hell was happening. August came out to try and talk to me and I asked her how it was that I was getting a BLA but not the boys who beat the shit out of me.
"Well, I didn't see the boys kick you." August said.
"I'm damn sure you heard me screaming."
"I did hear you scream."
"So, how is it she can claim I called her a bitch and that counts as witnessing but you can hear me getting beat up but that doesn't count?"
She sort of just shrugged. She said she didn't agree with the BLA but said there wasn't anything she could do.
Flippy Hair Guy was in the shelter too at this time and he kind of looked on pathetically. We had been playing Rummy before all of this started and he had said that they should have done more about the kicks to my head but he's on the very bottom totem pole of staff. He gave me a look that said, I hate my job and said goodnight and left. I waved my hand weakly. I had already lost circulation in my fingers at this point.
I lost feeling in my lips, toes, and hands. I can't even remember the last time I had a panic attack that bad. You can't die from a panic attack which is what keeps me out of the hospital most of the time when I have attacks. However, I've had one pain attack in my life that was so severe I lost so much oxygen that my arm bent itself up and everything cramped. I cannot think of anyway to describe that pain but it scared the shit out of me. I looked like I was a kid in one of those exorcism movies.
I was afraid of this happening again. I was terrified of getting sent to the hospital. They would sedate me and then send me out. I'd be on the streets sedated. That idea terrified me more. I was even worse off after thinking about this.
Vampire Girl admitted that she was the one who called Bitch Lady a bitch. Still, I was the one getting the BLA. We pointed out that this made no sense but Bitch Lady wouldn't budge. Even though I hadn't done anything I was getting kicked out.
Another girl came out and sat on the chair next to me. I've never talked to her before but we sleep in the same room. I've always been semi curious about her. She wears boy clothing and has a shaved head. She was wearing a cami tank top and no bra. Her tiny pointy boobs popped out of her chest with her nipple eyes staring right at me.
It was our first ever conversation but she insisted that I squeeze her hand. She told me she would get me knives and pepper spray. She got me a grievance form. She eventually calmed me down, "You don't want to pass out because then they have to call an ambulance and take you to the hospital." She told me she shaves her head and wears men's clothing to prevent her from getting raped on the street.
When I woke up in the morning Bitch Lady said she revoked her BLA but she was still writing an incident report. It scares me knowing now that staff can kick me out whenever they feel like it regardless of I did something or not. It scares me that I can get a concussion and the person who did it gets no repercussions. My feeling of security is very much gone.
On top of that my head hurts a lot. I'm certain I have a concussion as it hurts a million times worse than it did when I got one in a moped accident. It feels like my eyes are getting pushed out of their sockets and the sides of my head are in a vice. But, I don't want to go to the doctor. I don't want to have to explain that I got this injury by getting kicked around in the homeless shelter. I'm fucked.
--mm
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