by Dan Schwartz
I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.
It was so nice outside, damn it really was, so I sat out there on a chair and thought, you know, I'm going to stay here. I'm not going back inside at all. Not at all.
It proved more difficult. For one thing, it turns out to be cold at night. I found a patch of sod they were using to cover up an upturned field, and I slept under that. I found shelters - the tarps at baseball diamonds, dumpsters, various pieces of cloth.
For food I would scour around the area, looking at trash cans, going to pick up the scraps from restaurants. Sometimes there were cats and dogs.
Then winter came. Turns out that the weather isn't always this nice, sometimes it gets extremely cold. I ate snow to survive, as much as that could have helped. I tried to make warm insulation inside of me. I may have gotten frostbite? I don't know.
The important thing is that my sojourn outside was terminated - not by my own free will, understand, but by someone picking up my frozen body and taking it to a hospital. That bastard. Didn't they know I didn't want any help - that this is what I chose, to make a life like this for myself?
I was so close.