Chapter 1

Some of what I write is pure fact. Some is pure feeling. In either case, it is all true in one way or another.

Why would anyone live on the streets? Especially if they had options, as I did. And I certainly did! My parents had a wonderful house in Malibu. And they were very good to me. I didn’t have mean siblings, no one was abusing me, I wasn’t really even unhappy. So why did I leave?

It’s funny, sometimes, the way that circumstances pile up, one on top of the next, until you find yourself somewhere that you never intended to be.

When I moved in with my father and his wife, I was escaping a very narrow, restricted, sheltered, and solitary existence. I was not really permitted friends. Now, my father’s wife essentially told me that as long as I came home at night (or told them that I wouldn’t) those were my only rules. What a change!

At that time, they were living in West Hollywood. The school year hadn’t started yet, so I had nothing but spare time on my hands.

Freedom!

I roamed around the blocks closest to their apartment. I met new people. I hung out in the park and watched the old men play chess. I sat still, without worrying that my mother was going to notice that I was late. Evidently my wish to be anywhere but in her presence was tantamount to admitting that she wasn’t really the center of my life. Since she wasn’t the center of anyone else’s life either, this was enough to emotionally destroy her. So I was always home.

No longer. Now I was never home.

I hung out at the local burger joint. I met people my own age… or the age I considered myself to be. In actuality, I was probably the youngest person there. But West Hollywood has a very young homeless population. Not that I knew most of these people were homeless until I’d been there a while.

I talked to people. I listened to their stories. I heard about some amazing things (most of which were probably lies, but were entertaining none the less for that). I spent time getting to know a whole new group of people. I met my first openly gay man, and his lover… who flirted with me. People liked me! People found me attractive! In fact, the gay man was a bit jealous that his boyfriend was interested in this little, scrawny girl.

I had friends.

So when my father and his wife decided to move to Malibu, taking me away from the first friends in my lonely existence, is it any wonder that I found this to be the most tragic thing to ever happen to me?

Even then, I didn’t plan to run away. I was enrolled in a new school, had not made any friends yet. And was used to skipping class in order to have some time away from my mother. Skipping school and taking a bus back to West Hollywood to see my “friends” was not really such a stretch for me.

But the busses only run until 5:00, and I lost track of time. I was stuck in West Hollywood with no way home, unless I called and confessed. The idea of admitting that I’d done something wrong never occurred to me. I simply didn’t go home.

What a silly reason to become homeless…