I’m standing on the edge of an abyss, and it’s terrifying. Homelessness is more than just being without a roof—it’s a life sentence of uncertainty, danger, and despair, especially for someone who’s totally blind like me. I don’t have the luxury of seeing where I am or navigating unfamiliar streets. I rely on my memory of the small area where I used to live, but beyond that, I’m lost in every sense of the word. And with no steady income, no family or friends that can do anything for me, and no community I can turn to, every step into the unknown could be my last.
In a country where being homeless is essentially criminalized, the dangers go far beyond finding a place to sleep or something to eat. For me, it’s about sheer survival. How will I even know where I am if my phone dies and I’m left stranded in an unfamiliar place? I won’t be able to tell if I’ve wandered into a rough neighborhood, if I’m near a freeway, or if there’s someone nearby with bad intentions. I wouldn’t even know if I’m heading into traffic or toward a place I can find help. It’s not just frightening—it’s genuinely life or death. I’m in a foreign land where the streets are as unfamiliar as the systems meant to support people in need. There’s no safety net beneath me; one wrong turn could be the difference between life and tragedy. Being blind adds a whole new layer to the fear because I have no idea what I’m walking into, and in this situation, that’s not just a metaphor—it’s a terrifying reality.
What haunts me most isn’t just the fear of what might happen to me, but the fact that I still care so deeply about the person who put me here. Even after being betrayed, my heart aches more for her than for myself. I know what it’s like to feel hollow and lost, to not know what you want or where you’re going. It’s like living in a constant fog where every decision feels wrong, and every step you take is just another mistake. I’ve seen that pain in her, felt it in her words. And I hate myself for still wanting her to be okay, even when she’s the reason I’m facing this nightmare.
There’s something inside me that refuses to let go, because I know she’s hurting too. Maybe more than I am. Maybe that’s why she pushed me away, why she put me in this impossible situation. Maybe she’s running from her own chaos, her own fears that she’s not good enough, that she’s broken beyond repair. I see it, because I’ve felt it too. And yet, here I am, scared out of my mind, facing a reality I never imagined, still holding on to hope that she finds peace in her heart, even as mine is torn apart.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. I don’t know where I’ll end up, what will happen to me. But what I do know is that I still love her, even if it makes no sense. Maybe it’s because deep down, I believe that the person who hurt me didn’t want to, that she’s trapped in her own darkness. And maybe I’m a fool for hoping she’ll find her way out, even as I’m being cast into mine. But that’s the truth of it. Even in this darkness, I can’t stop caring about someone who might be as lost as I am.