How old do you think I am? 20? 45? 60? Well bad guess! I am 17 years old. I have been on the streets for a year and a half. I have tried to get some social help but I don’t speak much French and they can’t be bothered to take time and try to understand me. I once spoke to a bloke that knew a bit of English but he didn’t understand me either because he said that I had made myself homeless so he can’t help me and they don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. They said, the only solution would be to go back to the ones who had brought me into this world. How helpful is that! There is no way I am going back there!
In the morning, I usually sit on a bench and wait until someone finishes their newspaper or magazine to then, go and fish it out of the dustbin to have something to distract me for at least 2 hours. Before what I call lunch, I go for a quick wash in the public toilets at the other end of the park.
My lunch consists of left overs from tables outside cafes and restaurants. In the summer it is far more easier than in winter because people have lunch outside so I have more time to nick food off tables before the waitresses clears it away. In winter, I have to go inside the cafe and I have to buy something like a drink or cigarettes if I don’t want to get kicked out. I arrive when the place is full and most people are about to leave. I pretend to go to the loo and on the way I slip all the left overs from tables in my pockets until one of the waitresses start getting suspicious and kicks me out of the place.
After lunch, I usually go for a little snooze on a crowded street or in a parc so I have less chances to get attacked because there are people all around me. I have a rest in the afternoon because I get tired of all those sleepless nights as you will understand if you stay with me a little longer.
Oh no! Stop! Go away! Shit! That dog just peed all over me! It’s disgusting! Where am I? Oh yes, I remember, the nearest public toilet is about 5 minutes away from here. This is not the first time, it happened to me at least twice already! I hate it because the smell of pee stays on my clothes for about two weeks as I don’t have anywhere or anything to wash them properly. It makes me want to beat up the dog when it happens but then, I watch him go off and realize that he’s homeless just like me and I feel sorry for him. I know, it’s pathetic but that’s one part of me that living on the streets didn’t affect. Oh gosh! The water is freezing! I can’t wash myself right now. I walk in the streets and people avoid me. I know it’s because of the smell and I can’t help feeling embarrassed even though I haven’t peed myself as people might think.
It’s starting to get darker now so I’d better go and look for a place for the night to come and not the same as this afternoon because some psycho might have spotted me and planed to visit me later on at night. Night is the worst moment of the day. Have you ever tried to sleep on the street on the hard and cold pavement? No? I didn’t think so. Well just imagine being half frozen and lying on a cramped doorway on a cold pavement. You can try every position you like but you will never find one which you could keep for more that twenty minutes without getting bruises. I have just found a doorway, I hope no one will come and kick me out of here and that it is deep enough not to be seen easily, in case someone needs a pee or if a gang of thugs are looking for someone to maim. And there are the other guys who’ll knife you for your pack. I lie here, listening for footsteps, voices and breathing even. That’s why I don’t get any sleep at night. After a couple of hours you think, can I stop listening or can someone still come?
