Earlier this week a series of short essays came in to Speak Up. Sent from a longtime friend and contributor who has been facing homelessness for years:
Another night in a rest area along an interstate. I can't even begin to recall how many nights I've spent sleeping in places like this. All I know is that I don't want to be here anymore. I would like to have some dignity, most of all. A bed to sleep in, a person whom I love next to me, a dog at the foot of the bed, and a bathroom.
It's been seven years. Since I had those things I crave like no other.
I feel so alone.
This is just a snippet. It's hard to know what to do with work like this, which is so honest and raw and heartbreaking. On one hand, it hurts to read. But I'm so grateful that it is entrusted to Speak Up, that we get to help shepherd it forward, and bring it to a larger audience.
"A voice for the voiceless" is central for our mission. That often means stories like this one. Thanks for your support to keep it happening.