Wasted

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A raging storm of questions battered the man’s mind, but there were no answers. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea how he got there. All he had were fate memories from the night before, memories he desperately wanted to forget, memories of loneliness and regrets from a gruesome past. As his right hand gently brushed his forehead, he flinched in pain. Small pieces of glass and gravel were tormenting reminders of a rough night he could not remember. Dried blood stopped above his right cheek bone.

Too wasted to stand, he reached out his arm towards a woman passing by. His cotton mouth prevented him from uttering a single word, and she dared not speak to this outcast. But her eyes spoke volumes. Her gaze screamed, “You drunk! Stay away!” She quickly pulled her young son in close as if she were protecting the young boy from a murderous villain. She didn’t even try to hide her disdain. She was utterly disgusted. In fact, everyone was disgusted by him.

Emotional rejection had been the norm for many years, but now his body was revolting against itself. It was as if there was a civil war raging within. He knew his days on the battlefield were coming to an end. Each labored breath caused excruciating pain, and then without any notice or praise, the man breathed his last.

This man was a hero who fought for freedom. He was also a homeless veteran. There was not a drop of alcohol in his mouth and not a morsel of food in his stomach. He wasted away from starvation.