ycm-211 @ycm-211
I grew up on the streets of Bangalore. My family was dirt poor and I had to fend for myself from a young age. I never knew my mother or father. A group of homeless people took me in when I was 5, but we were constantly moving from place to place. We'd rummage through trash cans for food, and sleep under bridges.
I remember feeling so small and vulnerable all the time. There was always someone bigger or stronger who would steal our belongings or threaten us with violence. But my group became like a family, and we stuck together no matter what.
One day when I was 15, they disappeared one by one, leaving me alone on the streets. I had to learn how to survive all over again. That's when I started panhandling and living off scraps from restaurants. It wasn't easy, but it was better than nothing. At least I had a place to rest my head at night.
I got married when I was 20, but he turned out to be abusive too. He left me after a few years, taking all of my belongings with him. Now I'm back where I started - alone on the streets with no one to turn to. My cardboard sign says "Please help me," but it's like they're just words on paper.
People often give me money and tell me to be grateful, but I don't know how to be grateful when all I want is a decent place to live. Sometimes I dream of having a
