Today, I start my new blog. It was on or about 12/12/10 when I was put out on the streets in Portland, Oregon by the man who said he would love me forever. I had just finished telling him how I didn't want to continue the relationship and that I thought it best if we split up, when he ran to the motel manager and had my room key deactivated. I went from being in a relationship with a man who financially supported me to being a single/homeless person in an instant. To this day I have never retrieved the family photos or personal documents he stole from me. I could care less about the clothing and other items lost.
I have been crushed by many experiences during my couple months on the streets, and lifted by others. But it has been my complete lack of voice that has hurt me the most. There are days when I don't know if I will survive and days when I wish for death to come quickly, but the idea... the thought that my story, who I am, my history, will disappear into thin air troubles me daily.
I cannot rely on others to tell my story, as I have experienced too many distortions of identity as strangers and family attempt to interpret my words and actions through their own sense of value and judgement. I have been told by many that I chose to be homeless, and still others claim to know of some drug addiction that does not exist. I am a homeless man, 42 years of age, who is HIV+, and a born-again Christian who sees a God who loves and accepts me as I am. I have chosen to remain celibate while on the streets, and so far have kept to that way of being without any struggle.
I intend to be completely honest in my blog entries and will only keep back information if it would jeopardize my safety in any way.
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