You're at work. 5 o' clock finally rolls around and when you check your pockets, you realize you lost your bus ticket, you have one cigarette left, and you don't have any money on you. You start to freak out but you don't let it show. You put on your hat and start texting everyone in your phone.
You sit in the park and wait for a response. You think about your past and last time you slept in the street. It was cold, dark, and rainy -- much like the night you are currently experiencing. You still had the sleeves on your denim jacket and you were able to find an awning to hide under for the night.
You remember balling up the jacket, turning it into a pillow, and holding on to all of your valuables with dear life as you slept. You remember the fear of being touched or stepped over or woken up a 3 or 4 in the morning. You mentally prepare yourself for this experience.
But finally, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A friend tells you to hop a train to Hoboken, New Jersey and they'll take it from there.
After getting off the train, you meet your friend in a Country-Western bar. Every song that plays is about a truck, a beer, or a woman. You're okay with this. "At least they're honest" you think.
You haven't seen your friend in years and she looks like someone you could spend the night with. You playfully, carefully, and awkwardly imply that you would rather sleep in a warm bed with a warm body instead of a cold room that smells like your failures.
She, surprisingly, takes to it. She buys you drinks and food and you stumble a couple blocks east to her apartment. You get nervous but think to yourself,
"I need to do whatever I need to do to stay out of the goddamn street tonight".
You barely make it through the door. Your body is clasped around this person you haven't been around, seen, or talked to for years until today. She smiles at you. It's a smile of understanding. "I know what you're doing. I know what you need" it says.
Owen's Breaking Away pops into your head:
"Just between you and me, I don't know what I'm doing here. In your room, close to you, full of shit and free beer."
When you two finally get some sleep, you wake up an hour later, and she remembers that you needed a ride home. You sit in silence, hand on your temples, feeling guilty, feeling like the old punk you used to be.
Eventually, the guilt fades. You slip yourself deep into the passenger seat and you accept you will always be the homeless, crust punk that will sleep with anyone if it means you'll be off the streets.