The End

I've never had much luck in life. Never had those bright and happy surroundings, or an loving and affectionate environment. I'm not complaining though because whether it's based on what God decides or destiny or even fucking fate, this is the way it is. I can't blame or be upset about something that's not in my control or in anyone else.
If I had the control over where I was born, then I wouldn't have picked this place. It doesn't matter though. We are all born alone and we are all born with life. We deal with different problems, yet we go on.
I know that my problems would be considered one of the worst, and my life is what others use to make themselves feel better, to say "it could be worse. I could be like her". I'm not angry that they consider me the worse, because maybe I am. Yet I still am equal to all of them, whether the see it or not. I need to eat, I need to sleep, and I need love like all of them.
I live.
Before being the lowest of scums, I'm human. Just like all of them.
Being the worst and lowest maybe me see some things clearly though. We always complain, yet never appreciate. We always want more, we always seek perfection. Wonder why, since will never achieve it.
People are blind, but there's not much to do about it. If all humanity saw, the world would be a better place. Maybe I wouldn't be where I am now. Maybe.
That's kind of my only hope. It's too late for a chance for me, but a chance for others. Those who deserve it and those who don't, because how do we define who deserves this chance?
It's amazing how we quickly draw the line. A Christian would deserve living more then a Muslim. A man would deserve a job more then a woman. A human being life is more important then one of an animal.
How would you "decide" who "deserved" to be born into a family that didn't want them, a father that hits instead of helping, a mother that's too wasted to even notice, and a brother that would only take advantage of her?
Did I deserve it? Can you decide that for me? Did I deserve having that family, and being to scared to even wake up?
Guess I wouldn't know. I asked many times that question to my friend, Charlie, a friend on the streets that can't talk. Well, I'm not sure if he can't talk, but he sure as hell doesn't so it with me.
Atleast his there. Atleast he listens. It's something.
He helped me find a job, not a very dignifing one at that, but I get my money.
It's nit easy going and selling your body everyday, but it's okay. I don't live with the fear, and I actually know someone who cares for me. Yeah, Charlie may not have said it, but I know he cares. After Miranda, our other friend , died from some miscarriage problem, he looked out for me.
That's all that matters, right? A human isn't worth much without love.
They think I'm at my worst. I'm not. I'm loved.
That's not the worst, that's the fucking best.