Living in Boulder was probably the hardest time in my life.
The sun is out but it's still cold.
All the way in the mountains,
But I can hide from the shadows that I left behind.
I have a four mile walk so I can make a dime.
Hoping what I ate last night would last me through the day.
Clocking in to stupid jokes and long hours,
And racist nicknames to be part of the crowd.
Winter days are short except in that kitchen.
Clocked out, and I'm walking home.
My hands are hurting, but there's no one to talk to.
Not even my own thought kept me company.
My home is empty.
I don't want to look in the fridge to waste food, but my stomach hurts.
I don't remember what life feels like without suffering.
Going to have sleep for dinner.
- Gian Carlo