Today I was robbed. Without going into the details, every single coin and note I had was taken. The people who took it knew I was severely struggling too, which makes me feel worse. I cried on the beach, I wandered around, and my feet took me to places that would take an hour if I cared to look up and pay attention. I drank water from the stream, and ate my last orange. I feel miserable. Truly down and out. I can honestly say, in a lifetime of travel and adventure, have I never felt so low and empty. I feel like a tired soul. I have no backup. I feel too much of a burden to ask for another round of help. I never wanted to eat fish, I wanted to catch them. But was never ever taught. I have had to guess that I’m doing it right.

Everything I have left is useless right now. And probably has been useless for a long long time. I just failed to say so. Sun creams are useless, cups and pans are useless, books, spoons and toilet paper is useless. Because, I have truly nowhere to live, and no food to eat. I am in a place that doesn’t care too well for an individual without these two essential necessities. It’s 34 degrees out, I have tree shade, but it feels useless. It’s Saturday, and waiting for next Thursday feels useless. 5 useless days. 5 useless days of sweat, humidity, sweat.

Without seeking pity, what else is there to my life? I finally see myself asking all the fundamental questions that have been walking past the dusty window, not quite being able to see them clearly. What does society give a man, but that which he does not take for himself? Jesus and his 28 days in the desert, is just tale and folly, and it tastes quite bitter and insulting to you when life is a perfect image. Just keep letting go, letting go, letting go. Don’t hold on and life will be clear. I can’t chuckle really. There’s just nothing, but plain, still, inanimate, wall staring. It’s not even an attempt at waiting. It’s mind detachment. A defeated body, that just sits on the ground after a while of being beaten up, finally giving up to it, and having no mind. Giving up. Giving up. I don’t even have the bottle of whiskey for the last beach sunset goodbye.

I’m tired of chasing possibilities pointed in the direction by others, tired of twisting a dollar to become a meal, tired of trying. The last beach of my life.

From now, I am a thief by no choice of my own, and I care not.

So………