Troubles

I look at my clock. The soup kitchen opens in an hour and I still only have 2 dollars. I found 50 cents on the sidewalk, but decided to give them to a charity for children in Africa. Gerard is really getting to me.

My gut hurts every time I think of him. I feel so guilty for ratting them all out and causing them to get detention. I feel guilty for yelling at Gerard when he tried to collect money for his charity and I feel sorry for not seeing him when he was sick, even though he was the one who didn't wanna see me. But most of all, I feel lonely for losing my friends.

I enter the cemetery. It's the only quiet place in the neighborhood where you can be left alone and where they don't charge you for it. I walk around and look at the graves.

I wonder what my grave will look like. If I'll even have one. If I died tomorrow, I'd be placed under the unknown. I know that. If I die in 30 years, hopefully I'll be able to get at least a memorial plate with my name on it. Maybe just my first name. Or my nickname.
My only nickname is Frankie. Only Gerard calls me that.

My stomach hurts.

I look at my watch. Suddenly 35 minutes have gone by, so I chose to walk over to the soup kitchen and get a place first in line. I usually hate standing outside and waiting for them to open, because then everybody can see that I'm homeless, but I'm really hungry today, so I don't care. Ray could drive by in his fucking car and I wouldn't care.

I'm not as guilty about sending Ray to detention. I guess I hate him a little more than I hate Gerard.