Dear Sidewalk Walkers, Tourists, and Day Shoppers,

I wish there was a way to hold your head touching mine, so you could see who I really am, and how embarassing it feels to have this as my only choice. 
Im not who you think I am. 
I dont have a drug problem. 
I dont have mental issues. 
Im not here by choice, only people who’ve never lived like this would think somebody would be here by choice.
Life wasnt always this way. I lost everything, I lost things that you wouldnt even think could be lost.
The first night I walked downtown slowly. I was cold and I didnt know where to go.
I told myself to focus, not to panic, life happens in chapters and this one was just starting, but it would end too. 
The youth shelters told me I was too old to come in. The women’s shelters were past capacity, they said.
So I come here to the same spot every afternoon. In the mornings i’m at the unemployment office looking for a needle in a haystack. 
I try to make some money for food. It’s rare, but sometimes I make enough for a cheap hotel and I pretend to be somebody else for a night. 
It’s a struggle that involves sacrifices, but all the same I try to keep my phone paid for, waiting for that interview that doesn’t seem to be coming.
Yesterday a lady bought me a winter coat and some fancy mittens and they were so warm, it was so kind, I started to cry so much I had to leave. I hope to run into her again so that I can say how well I slept that night.
Kindness is so rare. Mostly I feel invisible.
Sometimes I ask people what the time is and they shoo me away like a fly and answer “I dont have any change.” If I had a dollar for every time thats happend, I could buy a condo.
Im trying. Im trying so much. 
When you walk by me, and you snear and say mean things and laugh with your friends,
I dont break. Theres nothing left to break. I was long past broken before I got here, but it makes me feel so lonely.
While I sit with a dirty cup in my hand, trying to dodge being hit with your shopping bags, I catch ends and middle bits of all your conversations. 
I want to tell you all, “You have no idea.” 
I want to ask you all why you dont see how lucky you are, how good your life really is, how easy you really have it. 
I want to ask why you dont cherish your lives.
I want to tell you how quickly it can all dissapear. 
I wish you could see what I see, even if only just for a moment.
Please be kind to your city’s homeless. Everybody has a story and you dont know theirs, but more than likely its one filled with horrors and bad luck and regretful mistakes that would tear you apart. We are still alive, and I feel that is an accomplishment in itself. We should be respected even if only for our perserverance. Spare what change you can, every little bit helps. Smile at us. Give us a compliment, offer us some courage and hope.
What if it were you? Someday it very well could be. 

Sincerely,

The girl on the corner.