There’s a homeless man that I’ve seen nearly every day since moving to Los Angeles. We haven’t ever had an actual conversation, but we’d picked up a routine of him yelling ‘Princess’ at me and me waving or smiling as I passed. Many times I’ve watched him stand out in the cold or blazing hot, holding a sign that reads simply, “I’m hungry,” and once, I finally decided to pick him up some food. When I offered him a turkey sandwich, a water bottle, a chocolate bar, and from what I had gathered his favorite chips (Cheeto Puffs), after poking his head in the grocery bag a bit like a hesitant but curious pigeon, he took only the chocolate with a huge smile on his face. I was so anxious in that moment that I couldn’t gather my words and courage to express that I’d bought it all for him, as it was clear he was only picking one thing to not leave me with little to eat.
He isn’t sober most of the times I’ve seen and interacted with him. It’s one of the main reasons I don’t think I can tell how old he is, long term drug abuse looks to have eaten away at him. Sometimes when we pass, I’ll catch something yelled about being high or being 'messed up’. He’ll have very animated conversations with himself on the bench right across the street from my apartment building balcony, where I’ redirect my attention to not feel like I’m imposing on a very dark moment for someone. I still can’t help but think about how quickly I’d start talking to myself were I alone and without most anything I needed for so long. Or how much I’d personally ache for company, even just human, respectful acknowledgement.
Yesterday he’d been on a trip for quite some time. From mid afternoon until 1 in the morning, he was on street corners screaming, cursing, swinging, falling, kicking, and cursing some more. On my walk I avoided him for the first time, not wanting that to be the moment I finally brought up homeless services with drug programs I’d found for him, and honestly not wanting to put myself through watching him laid out on the concrete, literally reaching out to people’s ankles as they passed. I also have had to face the reality that he many never want services or to get clean and I wasn’t ready to face that, not while he was like that.
Around midnight I got a text from my boyfriend, who was walking our dog, that 'Happy’, the name we just started using for this homeless man because we couldn’t ask for his name and probably wouldn’t get a comprehensible answer if we did, was yelling racial slurs at strangers passing him. He’d already sent my boyfriend a bouquet of dancing middle fingers once so my bf keeps his distance but updates me. When I went out on the balcony at around 1, he was on the far left street corner and seemed a bit less erratic. I thought that just as a young couple passed him and he tried to grab the man, then threw a punch as they both ran terrified. Immediately I grabbed for my phone, and while clenching it I stared at him, hoping I wouldn’t need to do what I’d never wanted to do, hoping that’d be the end of it. He proceeded to chase after the couple at full speed, and the look he made I couldn’t even describe beyond the pure determination that painted his face as he charged at the still running couple. I dialed 911. I told two operators what was going on, where I last saw him, but at that point he’d been out of my line of sight for over a minute. They said they’d send someone out, and at the time I felt like I had done the right thing, or at least the only thing I could do at that moment. Yet all night I’ve been anxious about the interaction he must have had with the police. I woke up sick to my stomach after a dream where he’d not survived the altercation, the one I called on him, and after not seeing him at all this morning, I feel really hopeless. If I don’t see him again, I’ll hope that’s a good thing but always know that I don’t know that, that he could very well be in a worse position because I didn’t think to call someone else or do something sooner, when he wasn’t already aggravated and violent. This whole situation has been weighing on me since he and I 'met’ when he first screamed, “Hi Princess,” and waved at me on my way to the store months ago.
I guess I just wrote this out because it’s hard to keep hold of my feelings and thoughts lately. They blur and fade before I can ever really get a good look at them, or are too forceful or strong to really comprehend. I’m scared for him and I’m scared that whatever literal or metaphorical hole I fear he is in, I’ve put him there. This is just one of those situations where I can do nothing and I may never know better what happened, and that really fucking sucks.