STOP! This is a non-fiction book. The depictions are based on real events. The dialouge is very rough. The circumstances and the descriptions of those circumstances atre true to a life on the streets. The language is the language we used day to day. Do not read this if you are easily offended...

It had been Mike who found me that first day. The first hour really. It was like, thinking back, he knew it was coming, and once I really gave that some thought I knew he did. His father lived with my father. They talked. He probably knew I was going to be kicked to the street. Whatever way it was it really didn't matter. Without Mike I would have died. I would not have made it more than a day or so. I had just tried to kill myself with an overdose less than three months before. I had no self-esteem at all.

Back then, on the streets, I adopted a different headset: I didn't think in terms of self-esteem, I thought in terms of staying alive. I didn't matter. What I mean is, what I did didn't matter as long as I was alive when it was all over. And when was it all over? Who determined that? No clue. I only knew I wanted to be alive when it came to that.

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