an open letter

Inspired by the numerous open letters of my fellow bloggers, I chose to follow in their spirit of indirect candor.

To the detached-looking outdoor residents of San Francisco:

Excuse me. What are you on? Are you high? Faded? Fucked up? Or whatever the term of actualization may be for your particular substance of choice. Because the way you are walking/talking/behaving is completely unstable and leads me to assume that you did not Just Say No.

And what is that smell? It is like a potpourri of all kinds of body odors, in which the undertones of stale urine and underarm sweatiness are always clearly discernable. *gag* Let's leave that alone.

Despite what it may sound, my intention is not to judge you. I am merely trying to gain a better understanding of your mind set so that when you speak to me I know how to respond appropriately. Since you insist on talking to me. Help me help you.

How should I respond to:
- Ya’ll don’t have to kill me, because I’m going to kill myself.
- Don’t act like you don’t hear it. I know you hear it. You can’t ignore it. (It = the voices in YOUR head? Because, no I don’t hear it.)
- I see your blue underwear. (So what, okay! The waist in my pants is a little big. You don’t have to announce it for the world. *sniff*)
- Do you want a dollar? Just smoke it, man. (Wait, you are offering me money?)
Because my first reaction is going to be to quicken the pace of my walk while reciting a couple Our Fathers and a quick Hail Mary.

I mean, what happened to the normal ramblings of the people on the streets of Chicago and Denver.
- Can you spare some change?
- Hey sexy.
- Do you know that Jesus died for you?
I am accustomed to these remarks. I know how to handle them.

Then I realized that whether I acknowledge you or not, you keep talking. And the more you talk, the less I understand. Wait, why are you following me down the street? Hail Mary, full of grace...

In conclusion, do not mistake my silence for arrogance. Or confuse my unwillingness to look you in the eyes with ego. I ignore you not because I am stuck up or pompous.
Truth is I’m scared.