The Formerly Homeless Are Sharing Their Scariest Stories From the Streets

oh man ive got some really crazy stories, i loved living outside the intensity of every day life was so much fun but the lack of time i gave to relaxing and processing all the crazy shit that happened all the time left me with some bad ptsd, but ill share one or two the first was when i met one of my best friends homeless in ashville North carolina, he taught me how to hop freight trains, I had just hitchhiked from Louisiana when I met him there.

He introduced me to some GDF some kids that claimed to be from a group of trainhoppers that called themselves wrecking crew they were just giving out lsd to all the homeless people of asheville at the time, the city got so weird all the homeless had been up for a week on lsd from these kids the whole town shut down for a day cuz of how spun out downtown was.

anyway they were giving us a bunch of free acid and according to rumor the real "wrecking crew" has deep ties with the greatful dead and they think of themselves as a sorta type of regulators of the street, some of em anyway, and they brought me and my best friend in the woods and told me and my best friend we were gonna beat up this rapist guy camping back there, and they ended up carving a big ass wooden stake and shoving it up the guys ass and killed em in front of our 18 year old asses.

anyway we hop outta asheville later that week heading to denver colorado for 4/20/2015 I think and we get there in like a month of fucking around in the midwest and some other kids claiming to be gdf wrecking crew that i assume are always downtown denver selling and giving away acid were there and denver is a hub for travelers especially on 4/20 cuz colorado is the only 'cool' state in the center of the country so people crossing coast to coast usually stop by to at least get weed, anyway there were tons of homeless people, street kids, traveklling kids, all hanging out at the bridge by the skatepark downtown called "hippie hill" where everybody hangs out every day and mainly just smoke dabs and its a weird social atmosphere anyway homel;ess people sell dollar dabs and they really act like hustlers lol but like ojnly make enough to get meth every day loil, but these gdg were dishing out acid and meth and shit dude the amount of drugs and crazy homeless people that week is insane, i traded this guy a slingshot for a ton of meth and hash and he walked around with machetes taped to his hands, anyway downtown ended up closing down like all the stores, kroger and everything just shut down at 3pm cuz the homeless population got so wack. and i ended up having to fight cannabls that night. theres cannibals in denver, this girl i was with kept telling me about them i thought she was skizzo until that night at hippie hill on 4/20 everybody was so spun the atmosphere got so weird and dark so everybody peaced out except me and my slow ass girlfriend at the time with her 3 dogs and a backpack that weighed more than i did, and these guys with upside down cross face tattoos and some crazy face tattoos, its not uncommon to look like that in the trainriding community so i just hung out and talked to them like i would any of my other friends while my girl was tweaken out on her backback tryna leave i was talking to the one dude he was saying he was from baltimore too which is where im from, and we were talking about this badass punk band called trash talk from baltimore, and my girl was like yo we gotta leave hes trying to punk you out, and i was like no hes not were literally talking about punk music, and the guy was like "dude do you wanna eat your gf and her dogs with us?" and i was like wtf and i bashed em with my skateboard n probably killed him and fucked his friend up with this wrecking crew kid, anyway i dont fuck with wrecking crew they kill people that are rumored to be rapists without any proof they give a lot of free drugs away though and theres more stuff about them but im done typing

Username: methmouth0270

I was an Uber driver in San Francisco, and was not homeless, but here is my witnessing of another human's horrific ordeal. I'll keep it to the point.

I was driving through the Tenderloin, a horrific downtown area of SF known for homeless encampments and drug problems, as well as a widespread mental health epidemic. I saw a very young man in an intersection holding a typical hand-drawn sign asking for help.

He couldn't have been older than 22, and I dread to think what if he was a minor. Banish the thought, ugh. Anyway, he was holding the sign, and he had one pant leg rolled up revealing a NFL football-sized open wound on his right calf. It was rotting, shades of green and dark purple.

Puss and scabbing as well as just straight exposed fatty tissue and muscle. I am a compassionate human being, so I couldn't resist the impulse to pull over right there and ask what in the fuck happened to him. The story went as follows: He got stabbed 7 times by another homeless individual for unknown reasons, someone called 911 and an ambulance took him to a hospital.

He proceeded to contract a flesh-eating bacteria at the hospital. At that point, the hospital decided he was now too expensive to care for since he had no insurance and he was kicked out with no antiseptic, no bandages, and nothing else to survive. Keep in mind, he still had this fucking bacteria eating his flesh faster by the day. Cherry on top? He got stabbed again after that.

The leg needed to be amputated in hopes of saving him from gangrene/sepsis. I'm no doctor, nor do I myself have insurance, so I offered to hit a nearby pharmacy and spend every cent I had to get him antiseptic, bandages (even though at this point I am positive they would have served no practical purpose) and all the food I could afford.

He said no! He fucking said no, and instead asked me for the cash. It was for drugs. He had given up and just wanted some form of relief. My spirit broke. I had no cash. I went to an atm to give him something and when I returned he was gone.

I left that city and never went back. I was deeply depressed for a couple of weeks afterward. How can humans be so cruel.

Username: Dermetzger666

A time this guy picked me up in this little sedan saying he actually pulled back around to pick me up. He was wearing an all black duster, slick black bear, black boots pants and shirt and a big black mustache.

Told me he just got out of prison for murder and it was his daughter’s car. He was robbing a liquor store when he was 19 and it was owned by retired cops, they shot his friend to death so he shot one of there’s. Did around 40 years.

He offers me some vodka or a bugler and I decline. He invited me to a thanksgiving with this chick he was sleeping with that was married. I was hesitant but he put her on speaker phone and asked if I could come so I did. I was playing banjo for he kids a while and he was sneaking off into the pool shed with her as her husband is (potentially) obliviously walking around.

He came back at one point and the kids were called inside. He asks “so how do you feel about having your dick sucked?” I politely decline. Eventually he goes through a long list of sexual offers that I continue to very politely decline.

Things wrap up and I ask him to take me to a place near the interstate to sleep. He picks a really great spot but on the road he slows to ~10 miles an hour and starts back with the offers. “What if I just watch you?” Etc...

He puts his giant hand on my crotch and grabs what he can while I use both hands to try and pull off. Eventually I just jump out of the car. He stops and says “do you want to grab your shit?”

“If you’ll let me.” I grab it. He says it was nice to meet me and drives away and I just take off running. I call my mom from a pay phone and she just laughs about the experience with an “I told you so”

Fortunately a lady gave me 60 bucks and there was a greyhound nearby so I got a ticket to Las Vegas where I say next to a guy who let me stay with him for a few weeks.

Another time got a ride after trying to sleep on the interstate but it was far too cold. I started walking and it was pitch black out and these two guys in a big black pick-up stopped to pick me up. I throw my shit in the back and at some point to car kind of loses control and starts moving super slowly which had me panicked. I guess it was something with their axel, I forget.

We drove to the nearest rest area and that’s where I realized they were shooting up melted down amphetamines and going absolutely batshit crazy. Just walking around screaming, standing in the back of his truck screaming, and being very combative with one another.

Fortunately I’m from Florida and I’m kinda used to that behavior. I tried to sleep in the bathroom but got kicked out so I did my best to rest in the truck bed.

They slowly drove to an auto parts store in the morning but never slept and just kept on screaming and arguing. I just started walking and some Christian guy picked me up fortunately and gave me 20 bucks and a short ride to the interstate, and of course reassured me about gods love and all that.

Username: Jenna4434

I wasn’t actually homeless, but I was working at a restaurant in Chicago and, on thanksgiving day, we decided to be charitable and bring all the food leftover after closing to the homeless camping out in Lower Wacker.

We brought them an entire thanksgiving meal. Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, etc... We gave them the works.

We tried to give generous portions, but also make sure we didn’t run out before all the homeless present had a share. Our tray of mashed potatoes ran out and my coworker (we’ll call her Cassie) went back to the delivery van to grab a full tray out of the hot bag.

Not five seconds had passed before we heard her scream. We turned around and saw one of the homeless closing the back doors with the van and making a hustle for the driver side. Cassie was pounding on the doors from the inside.

The delivery van had a steel mesh barrier between the cargo area and the cab, so it sort of turned the back of the van into a mobile cage, and it was obvious this homeless guy had thrown her in it and was attempting to kidnap her and take all the food.

Luckily, the delivery van didn’t have a key in the ignition, because I had the key in my pocket. The guy locked the van from the inside and tried to find a way through the mesh to get to Cassie, but there was no way he could get to the back of the van without getting out.

My other coworker and about 15 homeless men walked up to the driver side and passenger doors and made sure he didn’t try to make a run for it. I went to the back of the van and unlocked it and let Cassie out.

After that, I snuck to the passenger side and unlocked the door. The decent homeless people yanked the kidnapper out and began beating the living hell out of him. My coworker and I got Cassie into the cab, then we unloaded all the food and decided to leave.

We debated if we should call the cops, but decided not to since we had been serving that food to the homeless without a permit anyway. Our managers knew, but also said that if we got caught, they wouldn’t vouch for us.

They understood we were trying to do something nice for the homeless but didn’t want it to fall back on the restaurant. That’s why we took one of our rental vans and not one with the restaurant logo on it.

We made sure all the food was left for the homeless. It took us about 3 minutes to unload it all, and probably about 4 minutes total to leave... They never stopped beating that guy, and I don’t know how long after we left that they continued.

I’m not sure what happened, but I really have a gut feeling that they killed that guy for trying to kidnap and do something terrible to Cassie. Who, at the time this happened, was only 17. This was her first job.

To her credit, she didn’t let it scare her out of the job. She took one personal day and then came back into work. However, she stopped volunteering to help in deliveries after that.

Username: Atlas_Black

Scariest? I'll never forget it cause it was convinced we killed a guy but then seen him walking around a month or two later. Story time:

I had been homeless couch surfing for like a year and scored and was able to spend a few weeks at my buddy joshes house (rip joshy I miss u) and we pooled our resources and just went on a bender. My thing was heroin and morphine.. He loved extacy so I smoked some tar, he smoked some weed.. Well shit I did to I think.

Then we each popped triple stacks and decided to wonder through the night in Oakland. We had some cops pass us and slow down so we dipped from I think jack London Square and we end up by some grocery store. We both hear screaming.. But not normal screaming.

Like screaming that makes your hair stand. Josh was a trained mixed martial artist before his downward spiral and this was still when he was a beast. Anyways I start bolting towards the screaming and he's right beside me. We round the back of the store and in a loading dock all we can see is shuffling and screaming..

A fight. Then we notice a chick, she the one screaming and there's some dude fighting to get her pants off. I instantly realize what's happening in my haze and me and him locked eyes as I hit him the first time.

Then I felt something, figured I got stabbed and it fuckin pissed me off, right about then adrenaline overtook and I remember rolling him back over a few time so I could keep smashing his face. Josh was kicking the living shit out of him too.

We stop and he's gurgling blood n shit and the fuckin chick.. Some crackhead starts yelling at his unconscious body and kicked him then went through his pockets. I asked her if she was OK and she told me to mind my own business.

Lol, ok then. We just hopped the fence and ended up following some train tracks into Berkeley I think and ended up having a rough come down on the first south Bart train back into Fremont.

Her screams still scare me when I hear them. She was tough as nails tho, those were primal screams and had we not shown up she may have been able to handle her own who knows. Af6er that I spent another 10 years fucking around w crime and drugs.

Feels like another life now its been so long. I miss the adventures and not caring about anything but each other. We were little addicts with all these big dreams and had zero idea of what we were doing.

Username: [deleted]

I was homeless and drifted from place to place (From Washington state to Louisville, Kentucky, and almost every state between) when I was an 18-20 year old girl. I remember not having contacts and losing my glasses. Not being able to see effectively really made me vulnerable, more than I already was, since I looked about 13.

I worked as a day laborer, a temporary factory worker, a farm laborer, a street vendor selling jewelry, a barista, and a telemarketer, at different times and for short periods. When I couldn't get legit work I panhandled, which I was terrible at. I learned to dumpster dive for food and you learn where the soup kitchens and food pantries are.

Sometimes in the city I'd sit outside restaurants and point-blank ask people for their left-overs when they came out. Sometimes their reactions made the humiliation of even having to ask, much worse. Like getting spit on or told that I was disgusting for asking.

Besides having blurry vision for more than a year that I was out there, getting beaten by the cops and fear of rape were the worst. The latter never happened, but I had to be hyper vigilant. I never got a good night's sleep, ever. The former did happen and it really fucked me up.

I was raised by parents who were both police officers and who were both physically abusive when I was growing up; the incident both re-traumatized me and reminded me that the police are there to protect and serve the interests of the rich, not me; period, end of story.

The only way to avoid rape was to either stick to a group, or to have a boyfriend. I spent 6 months of that 2 years completely alone, about a year of it single but pooling resources and sticking to a group of friends, and another several months with a completely idiotic boyfriend.

It makes me cringe to remember him. Sticking to a group can work, except when the "members" are revolving (people drift in and out of groups, hop trains or hitch-hike other places, get arrested, disappear, etc.) and people come into the group that aren't trustworthy or who thrive on causing chaos, which is common.

I slept in the woods, on the beach, under overpasses or bridges, on rooftops, in bathrooms in public parks, abandoned buildings, or if I was lucky, in vans, buses, or couches of kind strangers.

The best places to sleep were on church grounds. It was the safest place, and sometimes whoever showed up to work in the morning would give you coffee and donuts. Sometimes they'd scream at me or call the cops, but about 50:50 I'd get breakfast.

Edited to add: I never got raped, but I did get felt up and molested by this creepy older guy in the group who turned out to be a pedophile who hadn't registered and was on the run, which none of us knew until he got arrested while we were sitting in the park one day in Berkeley, CA. It still makes me feel shivery and scared to remember him.

Many of the churches who have services for homeless people are predatory and cultish. I avoided sleeping in shelters at all costs, especially religious shelters.

I once got picked up hitch-hiking with a friend outside Palm Springs, CA, and the woman who picked us up took us to this weird "ranch" out in the desert. They went through our backpacks in front of us and didn't return them, gave us uniforms to wear and assigned us bunks in separate quarters.

I think we were there for a couple days before we managed to find each other and bolt out of there, but it was full of people who were sent there to serve criminal sentences. All we did was memorize Bible chapters and do chores. The passage I was commanded to read aloud and write down over and over was Ephesians 6:10-20.

2ND EDIT: Apparently they are called "honor farms". Googling, but i am not sure of the name of the place and I can't find it- it was in 97-98 sometime, and felt like a weird nightmare; it was one of those experiences that felt unreal as it was happening, and even more unreal as it receded into the past.

Username: [deleted]

I feel it is almost unfair to say I was homeless, but I suppose homeless is defined as not having a home, a place to live. I was lucky enough to afford motels and to couch hop, but I was homeless throughout most of my teenage years. I didn't have to sleep on the street, thankfully. So take that as you will.

There was one motel I lived at for longer than any other motel I stayed. Most of the time I changed motels a lot because they wouldn't let you stay for too long. This one they let us stay for 8 months.

That motel was full of homeless. You'd see the same people for months on end, just like us. Scary is a word I'm going to use loosely here. Luckily I didn't experience any dangerous situations, which I'm sure is what you're referring to. I did, however, experience things that give me a deep sadness, and I experienced fear when thinking about how this effected people.

The motel managers sold/bought drugs to and from the people living there. There were always needles and pipes around the complex. The manager dropped a needle in front of my sister, and they knew we were living there, so they gave us three days free at the complex.

There was another family living there because their kid had some kind of condition. I don't know what condition it was, because my mother was the one they told about it and she couldn't relay a message if her life depended on it. But I ran into them and had a chat a few times.

The kid couldn't have been older than nine, and he was missing an eye. His face was open and exposed, like the whole socket was open, not merely just the eye gone, if that makes sense. He was dying from his condition.

The family spent all their life savings and racked up a lot of debt to save him and keep him going, but they lost their house and car and couldn't afford to save him. So they were just homeless living in the motel, taking him to school I guess until he died and they'd be stuck with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt for the rest of their lives. They moved away shortly before we managed to.

One that I'll never forget and made me cry when I saw it was a large old woman in a wheelchair. Every morning I saw her at the curbside, I don't know how early she would get up but it must have been extraordinarily early because I would leave the motel by 5:30 - 6 am so I could make it to school.

She had all of her stuff piled next to her. When I say all of her stuff, I mean all of it. A cartoonish pile of full sized boxes piled next to her, stacked taller than she was when she sat. It took up the whole sidewalk. Dozens and dozens of boxes of stuff. She had the same sign every day, written in colorful sharpies, that said "Just enough to do it another day."

And every morning for about a month she would beg with an obscene amount of stuff next to her. Then by the time I come back from school, all her boxes would be strewn out on the deck of whatever floor she was staying at next and she'd be putting it back in the room.

Most of the time they'd give her the same room back. And she did this every day for about a month or so, until one day I saw her arguing with a cop while she was begging. I didn't see her for a few days, and then I saw an ambulance parked in front of her usual suite, and the door was open, and you could see some of the boxes inside. I never saw her again after that.

Username: Comrade_Oghma

Might be a bit late but I feel like it’s worth mentioning: The way housed people treated us. Yes, meth heads can be scary; yes, the violent drunk on a street corner might try to stab someone, but nothing will be scarier than the countless times my friends and I were followed, harassed, threatened, assaulted etc by people who had a roof over their heads and money in their pockets.

I had been on and off the streets for a while (early 20s and housed now). As a small, femme nb teenager, it was particularly bad. I was rarely actually harmed because I was able to fight well, but I was actively threatened with rape and murder a lot.

People tried to kidnap me when I was hitchhiking. I was constantly followed by men who looked like they had nice jobs and families at home.

A few years later, I was sleeping in my car and spending days on the street, playing music and working as much as possible to get indoors again to try to go to grad school. I liked to look as put together as possible, but being in that position affords you no dignity.

If I cleaned up, brushed my hair, and wore makeup, people would scream at me. If I was dirty or couldn’t get somewhere to clean my clothes, people would scream at me. Obviously this depended on where I was at a given moment (and I moved around a lot due to this), but not knowing how you’d be treated by a stranger was the worst part.

I know people that have been beaten and left for dead at their sleep spots by drunk housed people. I was friends with a lot of gay and trans older homeless folks who had been assaulted and harassed consistently for decades but never given an opportunity to work and get off the streets.

I know women who have been kidnapped and assaulted. I’ve seen people’s tents with all their belongings get trashed by bored younger people. It was (is) sickening to see because people would be freaking out if strangers were torching their neighbors houses or stomping them out in the middle of the day, but most folks just didn’t see it. We weren’t even real to them.

It’s also important to point out that these people aren’t heartless monsters. They are normal people with normal lives and relationships. Being homeless makes you very aware of how little people give a shit about those who they expect to be addicts, lazy, degenerates, etc.

That made it scarier because literally anyone could be the person that decided they were sick of homeless people and try to kill you on any given day.

Username: bodyw-oorgans

Not homeless exactly, but.. I travelled to South Korea to teach English. I thought that I had done my due diligence and was heading out to somewhere reputable. The school existed, my mentor was crazed and the accommodation I was expected to live in was beyond a joke.

I touch down after flying from Seoul to the south of the country. Upon arrival and having met my 'mentor/sponsor, ' I was sent straight to the school. I wasn't allowed to see where I would be living, or given time to drop my bags off and settle, nothing.

I was whisked away in a blur. We arrived at the school and I was immediately told to salute the flag. I thought it an odd request, andseeing that it wasn't my country's flag, I kindly declined. I was given a bollocking. of. a. lifetime.

Like full spittle in the face job, and this set the tone of my trip into teaching English in South Korea. At the end of my first 'induction day' I was bungled into a battered taxi and driven out to see where I'd be living for the next year.

Thirst thing I notice was that the door to the 'apartment complex' was swinging off the hinges and not a single bulb lit the dank stairwell. I trudged the stairs in the dark and I am stopped at another door swinging off its hinges. In my room, the toilet was cracked and raw sewage was seeping in.

I asked for it to be repaired, or moved to another apartment, or a hotel but my mentors refused to help. I stayed in that disgusting room two nights before I did a runner on the third. I was so distressed by it all that I hadn't been able to sleep, or eat properly.

I was in the south of the country, which was far poorer than I had expected, having spent time in Seoul. I made my way on foot, about 12 miles along cracked dirt roads to the airport. Upon arrival I hadn't anticipated that it would be closed and spent the night huddled up against the building open to the eliments.

The monsoon that occurred that night was spectacular, but it left me fearful, drenched and cold. I hadn't sleept and was absolutely exhausted. I felt so open and vulnerable. I remember wondering if this is how homeless people feel each night. The airport opened up some time in the morning, workers stepping over me.

I entered and I was able to contact my parents from an airport telephone to tell them what had happened and got home eventually. I help the homeless whenever I can. You are part of our community.

Username: BuckFuzby

I was once homeless in Kitchener, Ontario for a few months (hitchhiked there from St Catharines. The shelter had no beds so I had to sleep outside for a while.

I was travelling with a friend and we would sleep in stairwells in the parking garages or take naps in the banks at night (this was before they installed those noise emitters. Lot of messed up things happened and all around the time I was getting off an opiate addiction.

Staying in shelters can be scary. There’s no telling the mental state or circumstances surrounding a stranger in those places. There were good people, sure, but this place also housed people recently leaving jail.

Asking what someone served time for is a big no-no and could get you in a lot of trouble. But as I said, I wasn’t in the shelter yet and neither was my friend so we had to improvise.

The most scary night I ever had was during a freezing rainstorm. We were walking along the train tracks off King St and it just started coming down. The two of us set up camp in a railroad underpass.

This underpass had ramps on either side of the track that angled upward and outward to a small narrow outcrop on either side. My friend and I slept on those tiny outcrops.

Well, sleep is a relative term. I was so freaked out that I would roll over in my sleep and wake up under a train (or not at all) that I couldn’t sleep all night. As if that wasn’t enough, we got cold.

Very cold. We ended up leaving before dawn because we were starting to get frostbite in our fingers and toes. It took us a few more days to get a bed.

Those nights were not pleasant in the least, but it’s made everything I have ever faced since then much easier to cope with. I am in a much better place now, but still poor as hell. Either way, I am grateful for that experience. I needed that humility and it’s made me a better person.

I’ve never seen a greater reason for charity than the shelter system in Southern Ontario. Too many people slip through the cracks and something should be done.

I feel like most people who work in social assistance are too desensitized to the results and limitations of the system to effectively administer help or care for their clients. But that’s a topic for another time.

Username: WiseauSrs

This may not be the brutal answer people are looking for to a question like this, but it's something that's fucked with my head since it happened and maybe it'll help somebody.

A few months ago I was living in a tent and in the grips of a gnarly fentanyl addiction. I'd been hustling up money for a hit of dope for weeks at this point but one day I had hit a brick wall and a friend of mine had too.

We'd been wandering around together panhandling at certain spots all day when a buddy of his had hit him up saying he was out of luck finding a bag and would get us well if we could introduce him to the dude we'd been copping from for the past few weeks. Obviously, we said deal.

So we introduce him to homie and he blesses the FUCK out of the guy since he was a new customer and that's how you get business where I'm from; give em a lot of the fire shit first then progressively give em less of the more stepped on stuff.

I knew this dudes tester batch was strong so I warn this mutual friend of ours to be careful when he's snorting the shit (how I thought he did all his dope, I didn't know him as well as the homie with me did) because it was gonna be a bit stronger than what he was probably getting. The guy took offense to this, told me to mind my fucking business, and I didn't say shit else because I was not tryna lose my hit and be sick for the rest of the night.

We get back to my tent and my homie loads up a rig for me and him and the guy who copped loads up a rig for himself. While he's prepping it in the cooker I notice he puts a pretty heavy amount in and don't say anything because, I mean, the guy said he knew what he was doing and I didn't wanna get under his skin anymore than I already had.

Looking back I really regret not interjecting but the most brutal part of an opiate addiction is if the right thing gets in the way of you staying well then the right thing is out of question. Unfortunate, but true.

Dude gives my homie his point and asks him to give him his hit. That was the first moment that evening some red flags started going off in my head. This guy was shooting pure fent and a good amount of it but didn't know how to hit himself. Before I could even think of saying anything though, my buddy had already drawn blood and was pushing down the trigger. As soon as everything was out of the needle and in his bloodstream, he immediately starts convulsing.

I had collected quite a few boxes of Narcan from my local needle exchange and had packs lying all over the tent so I immediately start rummaging through every inch of my tent as frantically as possible trying to find one of them. My homie is doing the same but is also keeping dude on his side and trying to keep him awake. Without me even realizing it, he also managed to do his shot.

I found one of the Narcan canisters and hit the dude convulsing as quick as I can. He stops seizing but he still looks like he's falling out so my buddy walks out of the tent, lights a cigarette, and starts looking for any canisters that may have been left outside.

He finds a bag he thinks it may be in, puts it on the ground in front of the entrance, gets on his knees and begins digging through it. He does this pretty quickly for a few seconds and then progressively slows down.

Soon, with the cigarette still in his mouth, his face just lands in the fucking dirt, leaving me screaming in absolute fucking terror. I now had two dudes overdosing in my tent and had no idea where the rest of my Narcan was. I didn't have a phone to call the police and I was fighting my bodies' urge to freeze up in shock.

Eventually, by the grace of fucking God, I find three canisters. I hit the dude who was convulsing again. He was still talking kind of strange and was obviously still high as hell but he was staying awake. So I hit my buddy once and start slapping him to wake him up.

He'd come to for a second and then start falling out again. Hit him again. Somewhat same effect. In a last ditch effort, I found a bottle of water laying around and dumped it on his head. He comes to FURIOUS but I'm damn near sobbing with tears of relief at this point.

We got dude back to where he was sleeping at, I got my shot in so I could stop thinking about what the actual fuck just happened, and that was that. In 4 days I'll be 4 months clean off that shit and I can say with no exaggeration at all that I would rather blow my fucking brains out then EVER have to relive that experience.

Just writing this story out damn near put me in a panic attack. If anybody reading this is even contemplating touching heroin or fentanyl, PLEASE learn from my mistakes. It doesn't just lead to homelessness, it can lead to situations like this and I promise you that sense of urgent terror is not worth any high on the fucking planet

Username: yungleach

I was going to school in Chicago. The winters here are very cold. Luckily I had my favorite jacket for the nights when I found myself out and about. I was returning home from an MTG prerelease draft when I saw this little old lady across the street.

She looked homeless but I kept walking. I had things on my mind and after going broke my first month in Chicago from giving money to every sally sob story and hard luck harry I met, I have to say I had developed a hard heart about homeless people as a student barely making it myself.

I got about 3 blocks down the street before I realized I was going the wrong way. I felt angry because it was so cold and I just wanted to go home.

I found myself on the other side of the street as I made my way back those three blocks. I came across the old lady again. This time I glanced her way and noticed three things. Each broke my heart.

She was sitting in a walker of sorts. It was hard to make it out. She was not wearing a jacket. I could see her thin arms. I could see sorrow and weariness in her eyes.

I was dismayed at her clothing and asked her; "don't you have a jacket?" She looked at me and I will never forget these words: "I don't have a thing in the world.."

It broke me completely. I grew up with hardly a thing myself. But this was a whole new level. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her. I hugged her. I told her that she was loved. I prayed with her. She wept and thanked me.

But to be honest I felt terribly inadequate. I wished to God that I owned the student housing I stayed in. I would have taken her with me. It is moments like this that I wish fervently that I had the power to affect more powerful change in people's lives.

It is one of the things that motivates me in life. This is the first time I have told anyone this story. To answer your question as someone who has had to wonder where he himself would sleep at night; the scariest thing about homelessness is the hopelessness.

Username: CaptainSpankz

Ok, so where I was staying in Minneapolis was a predominantly black neighborhood.. there was a really drunk blonde white guy, who I think had been robbed or something. Someone took his phone is all I ever really knew..

Cause he walked up to the shelter line I was waiting at and started screaming at the top of his lungs.. "some NWord took my phone." And basically kept repeating stuff like that.. I immediately yelled at him to keep his fucking mouth shut.. I didn't do to be mean, I just knew a lot of those guys had nothing to lose and if you're gonna try to take the last thing they have, there pride.. they're gonna fuck you up.

Which of course happened within about a minute.. 3 guys walked up, laid him out.. I've told this story before and had people be like "why didn't you help him!" Lol... there was no helping him at this point, he was surrounded and alone. I was yelling at the to stop once he was out, and they kept kicking him in the head.. a nice old guy grabbed me by the shoulder and just shook his head and said "please don't get hurt.

You seem like a good kid." So I backed off and went inside the shelter and told them to call an ambulance.. funny enough. They didn't even want to do that, they tried to walk in this guy who was unconscious for a good 5 min.. to "sleep it off" in the shelter.. it didn't look like he was even homeless..

Anyway luckily somehow the cops came, and called an ambulance and they took him away.. but ya, the people there were basically just gonna throw him in a bed and cover it up.. the cops didn't even ask what happened cause they knew no one would talk.. I wasn't about too, I still had to stay at that shelter and if word got around I snitched I could be next... which might have been why about 2 hours later that night, for the first and only time in my life I was almost mugged.. lol.

I was under a bridge, on the phone trying to find a place to stay cause while everything went down all the shelter beds filled up and I no longer had a bed.. so it was raining and I was on my phone under a bridge with some social worker lady.. some guy walks by.. and.. he didn't say anything.

But he looked right at me.. it has to explain, but I just felt something was off.. and then about 10 feet away he turned around and started walking back toward me.. still no, hey man, got a smoke?

Or w.e.. just a blank look.. I walked away back into the ran, and he followed me.. still without a word.. I'm on the phone telling this random lady lol. Who knows what she's thinking.. he seems to speed up a bit.

So I tell her.. I'm gonna put my phone in my pocket and run, if you hear something.. maybe try to call someone lol and I ran.. but I had a big backpack on at the time and it was sunday.. where I was, no bars or anything was open.. it was a good 2 city blocks before I could even see traffic.. that's when it really hit me. I didn't have a way out haha..

Anyway, anyone who lives in a city has probably heard those "car approaching" under ground parking lot speakers say or w.e.. and there was two cars across the street coming from under a garage.. I ran towards them while screaming I didn't know this guy chasing me and to let me in lol.. the first guy put his head down and just shook it.. no.

I can't even blame him, he didn't have time to take in the situation at all.. the second guy tho took the chance on me thank God and let me in.. the dude chasing me ends up walking around the jeep.. just mad.. staring at us.. guy who let me in, asks.. what do I want to do? I kind laughed and told him.. to leave. I didn't even want to deal with cops, I was a heroin addict at the time and had that whole deal in my bag.. so I had him drop me off 3 blocks away at a gas station...

Being homeless is no joke dude.. it was harder to do than anything else I've ever done.. be nice to homeless people, they definately don't have it easy.

Username: FriendlyFellowDboy

Was homeless in Montana for a while at 18. Downtown was where I stayed because it was close to work and familiar, one night another homeless man had stopped me while I was wandering the park waiting for a friend to pick me up to hang out.

He'd asked for a lighter and sparked his cigarette, I asked if he smoked weed and when he confirmed I fired up a spliff. We talked to eachother about how we fell on hard times which would up being really similar circumstances. Although I couldn't afford a place to live I still kept a job and paid for a phone for work, which I believe he saw the outline of in my pocket.

We sat and smoked for a little while talking and hed given me a box of cracker jacks, I thought he was a pretty rad guy. Once the spliff dies out he put a knife to my neck and told me he wanted everything I had on me, and reached into my pocket revealing my phone.

Coincidentally I was getting a call from the person I was waiting on and made it look like I was reaching to get my phone back from him but I really just answered the call. I'm then proceeded to have my face cut a few times and the shit beat out of me by this man while my friend listens over the phone hearing me screaming.

He rolled down his window to see if he was close enough to actually hear me, which he could. He races over towards the sound of me getting the brakes beat off of me and when the man saw a car approaching he started to run, my friend high tailed it and hit the man as he ran across the street.

Only issue with this act of heroism is that a cop rolled past on another road at that moment and flipped around and lit his lights. I struggled over to the scene and gave my side of the story (still bleeding from multiple places) and the cop had a difficult time buying it because I'm just some homeless guy saying another homeless guy robbed me and a man in a truck is my hero.

I saw my phone on the ground and that it was still on call, I told the officer it was mine and could prove it with fingerprint and that the call was connected to my friend. This was the one thing that kept my friend from going to jail for attempted homicide.

The other man was arrested and sent to the hospital in an ambulance and my friend got a warning essentially telling him not to be a hero and to call the police next time. I pretty much got told not to be homeless if I don't want to get robbed.

My friend took me to a gas station where I cleaned up what the EMTS didn't before leaving and we carried on to a car meet where I had an even crazier story to tell than the one about how I lost my car and home. By the way, I kept the cracker jacks and they were super stale.

Username: ThemHickens

I was living out of my car at the time. Had to vacate where I was renting on very short notice (it was an under the table deal all along), basically had a night to plan for it. The scariest part I suppose is that it happened without warning.

I had a shotgun handy so I wasn't too worried in terms of people trying shit with me. The scariest part about that is if the car got totaled or if I got rolled on and they searched, my life was basically over. Especially stressful when it's a temporary thing to get back on your feet.

I would sleep in a 24 hour parking structure and at times there would be people having sex right outside my car without them knowing I was there. More creepy/awkward than anything.

Another creepy thing was just walking around downtown when it's dead empty and dark. Don't know why.
The most frustrating part was other homeless people.

Since I kept myself together they would always hit me up for change/cigarettes and think I was an asshole for not doing it. They'd try the empathy card and would get especially pissed when I couldn't show any.

Same with onlookers. But they didn't know I was living out of my car since I didn't let myself fall apart. Have hated bums ever since. They do nothing to get out of their situation.

After a week or two, I volunteered for the night shift so my stuff would be safe on company property (gated parking lot), then I'd sleep in a secluded section of the parking structure during the day. Way less stressful and suspicious really. Nobody else worked the night shift, so I had the office kitchen to work with and could brush my teeth etc there, and shower at a 24 hour gym.

None of my coworkers suspected I was homeless and cops rarely inspect parking structures during the day as they do at night. Only once did I get rolled on and they let it be when I said I was taking a nap. Having a well maintained car and personal appearance helped. Did have to lie about my current address :\

Username: [deleted]

Was in a really secure spot from other people on the side of a mountain, but the drawback of being away from people is being close to various denizens of nature.

Trying to get to sleep, begin smelling.... something. Musky, sweaty, if it's human it has never been introduced to any sort of bathing. Hear rustling and stuff getting knocked over at the table that was set up about 50 feet from the tent, look out the window (close to full moon, very bright for night time), see a pretty big amorphous shape in the shadows just past where the moon was shining through the trees, couldn't make it out.

My then girlfriend notices and asks what's wrong, at which point, all movement outside stops- I make a SHUT UP gesture as quietly as possible, which her barely awake brain isn't grasping. She asks louder! The shape comes into the light, it's a damn BEAR.

I dove across the tent and put my hand across her mouth and explain in very few, very quiet words that there's a bear outside, and you need to shut the fuck up immediately.

The initial look of rage at me clasping her mouth shut dissolved and gave way to primal fear. We both sat up, quiet as a scream on the moon, and watched the bear as it was deciding whether or not to come investigate.

It didn't, choosing instead to meander around for about an hour, knocking shit over/tearing up stuff, then it mosied off. Neither one of us slept the rest of the night. Next morning realized an open pack of hot dogs had been left on the table, which the bear had obviously smelled and came to investigate/eat.

Moral of the story: don't leave food at ground level when camping. Lesson learned.

Username: NonSentientHuman

I had shit happen like my roommate try to kill me (temp housing arranged by shelter) but to this day the scariest thing is my future prospects. I was homeless from 16 to 23. I met my long term partner online and we talked every day for 4 years.

His parents generously offered to fly me to Canada to see him and now we live together. However he is going blind from a genetic condition and I need to figure out a way to make enough money for the both of us to live comfortably.

I wasnt able to finish highschool and have no money for a course. I just had to quit my latest job that was slightly above min wage because of a chronic health condition that is still being diagnosed.

I actually do have a legitimate skill, I continued to develop it during homelessness because I would rather have fun than fruitlessly scavange in a hopeless situation.

But it's not something people readily employ you for and society seems to devalue it so much that most expect you to give your skills for free because "it's your passion, you're selling out if you ask for money".

At this point I'm just fucking done with everything. I walk this weird line between being suicidal but I also know I would never do it. I studied psychology vicariously from the world around me, I can analyze my thoughts and know how and why I feel things, and I rationalize through them.

But I still feel a raging cynical hatred for the world. I know I can beat my situation through more perseverance but it's bullshit it even has to be like this in the first place.

I look around and see people enjoying easy lives (yet complaining about the most frivolous shit) and they only got there through random chance. Reality can go fuck itself

Username: SaltyNipps

I was 19 (27 now), and left home to escape my abusive mother. I think, the moment I left, I decided to just go into what I call "truck mode" and block off my emotions and just focus on moving forward. I was also very mentally ill at the time.

I couch surfed a lot. I moved 10-14 times or so in under 2 years. I lose count. I slept in my car sometimes. I had to depend on either temporary boyfriends or shitty abusive & controlling men to house me (who made me quit my job, raped me, and made me sleep in their beds - but hey, at least I got to eat regularly) when I was too depressed to really fight back.

I was being used and at the mercy of those around me with no choice in the matter. I had no safety. You get weirdly used to being beaten down and just existing in a state of mediocre nothingness.

I ended up going to therapy weekly after awhile and taking antidepressants and moving in with my grandmother at 21, and the previously mentioned psycho men started stalking me when I managed to get the emotional energy to stand up for myself and leave.

I found a partner that I'm still with, and when my grandmother died a few months after I moved in, my partner's mother let me move in with them until I got back on my feet (we were only together for 6 months at the time) and we were able to get an apartment on our own a couple years later.

I still don't know what "home" feels like. I've had an apartment for over 3.5 years with my spouse (5.5 years and still going! we're married now!) and it still just feels like a space I happen to exist in a lot of the time. I'll come home and be like "who let me rent this? who let me buy a car? I'm still a child".

Username: mercurialflow

For me it was finding out who really cared about me. Not very many, including 99% of my family. That hurt. I lost my house a few years ago. It was not quite a year after my ex decided not to come home ever again after a night of partying with her friend.

I had an 8 and 10 year old and was suddenly the only parent in the home. It was extremely hard to work and find daycare. I did the county stuff but there was waiting periods and nothing worked out. I lost my house.

Now I'm homeless in Minnesota and it's November 1st. All I have to my name is my house packed in a storage gargage, my beater standard cab truck, 2 dogs and my 2 kids... We never had to sleep in the truck thank God.

None of my family would allow us to stay with them for a few weeks til I figured something out, I wasn't ompletely broke but didn't have enough money to get a place and because of how much it costs to be homeless I could never save enough to get a place either.

We spent almost every night at a casino hotel because the rooms were so cheap. If you ever want to feel like a piece of shit, just leave a casino at 6am with your children with backpacks to bring them the hour drive to school.

The looks I got every morning haunt me to this day. I spent the entire winter like that, jumping from the casino hotel to my sister in laws couch all the while driving my kids to their same school which was an hour away just to keep some kind of normalcy in their lives.

Finally in March after I got my tax return I got us a place and we have been fine since. But I will never forget how large my family is but how little family I actually have

Username: TheMoonIsOurMission

Not homeless myself, but my friend was for a while, hopping from state to state. He was in Arizona for a few days so I booked him a room in the motel 6 and went there to hang out with him for a couple nights when I got off work and I have to say, the motel 6 is a great place to meet some interesting people.

First group we saw was a guy in a wheelchair with a prosthetic leg. He had his leg off while he was chilling by the pool and he was using it as a cup holder for his polar pop. His girlfriend who was 6 months pregnant was chiefing on her vape mod and their silent friend was sitting in the corner. They were nice people though.

Then we met this guy who called himself "highway". Dude was an ex marine who messed up his family life and bought a semi truck and became a trucker hopping from state to state. Super charismatic, 70s rocker type guy.

He sounded a bit like Sebastian Bach. We spent the night sitting on the steps outside of my friends room drinking whiskey, and Highway spent 4 hours teaching me Kung Fu that he learned in the military.

So he kept asking us if we knew where to get some "shit" and would wipe his nose everytime he asked us. I thought he meant coke, but apparently he meant meth.

My friend has been around a while, and was originally from AZ so he knew a guy. I left when the meth guy showed up, and my friend filled me in on the story the next morning.

So my friend and highway did some meth, and bullshitted for a while before highway went into the bathroom. He was in there for about half an hour before my friend checked on him. This big old tank of a man was naked, ass up in the bathtub moaning to himself.

He kept mumbling "I'm just horny! I'm just horny!" And everytime he said horny he would do a little dry hump thing.

So naturally, my friend had some ladies of the night on speed dial, and called 2 of them over (one for each of them)

When they got there, highway was so out of it he wouldn't move from his bathtub, so my friend, not wanting to pay the full amount for his 2 hookers, had one of them stand over highway in the bathtub and pretend to pee on him while he took a picture to show highway in the morning so he would pay him back for his hooker experience.

Then my buddy had sex with the hookers and they were on their way. Highway didn't believe his story, so my friend was out $200 and we never heard from highway again. And those are my tales from the Motel 6

Username: CaptainQuasar

I was lucky in that i never really had to be homeless in the city more than a small handful of nights all together, i could always crash with friends or in someone's garage, so i was never in super big danger and didn't have to witness any traumatic human caused instances, but for as long as i live i will never forget the vermin and mold.

I was homeless in Oregon, in the valley specifically, so both the mold and pests were always having a hay day, and I'd get to worst, grossest rashes from the mold and mildew when I'd have to sleep in garages, but what really traumatized me were the vermin.

I woke up one night with several rats crawling on top of me and my sleeping bag, and I've lost count the number of times i woke up with spiders and beetles and snails and god knows what else on or in my clothes. The stink bugs were the worst, I don't even wanna get into where I've found those....

When the raccoon was poking around inside the garage i just didn't sleep that night, the ones around there were very aggressive. I even called the cops once because it sounded like someone broke into the garage, but it was just an opossum.

I'd love to be able to say I've made a turn around and have gotten everything together, but honestly I'm just extraordinarily lucky for the people in my life who've helped me, believed in me, and help support me while i cannot.

If it weren't for that i might still be sleeping in a garage, struggling to get it together while my health insurance systematically denies me care for the thing i **need** medical care for, to be able to sit or stand without excruciating pain that debilitates me, to the point i have to crawl on my hands and knees to even go potty, and sometimes can't make it.....

I'm working so hard to fix things on my own, I'm making progress constantly, but it's such an uphill battle... I won't give up, i refuse to, but how i wish that my country was more invested in the health of it's people.

A lot of the world is broken, and i do my own version of praying every night that everyone who faces hard battles can get through this next day, and that they'll make it and succeed. Everyone deserves that.

Username: PhorcedAynalPhist

As a woman I was in constant fear of sexual assault. I had two times where pimps tried to sell me "the life." I would say this was the scariest moment, because the persuasion was borderline threatening but extremely sugar on the top (I.e. its not so bad, we'll take care of you, I'll have a place to stay in hotel rooms, and even one of the "girls" came out herself and tried to hook me in.)

When I caved and used what little savings I had (or credit, I was actually in debt for years after being homeless) to stay in the shittiest hotel rooms in the city, it was truly frightening how much drugs, prostitution and crime goes on in those hotels. Truly.

The other thing that was creepy (but low key I just blocked most of it out because it was so fucking constant and if I really thought about it I probably would have died from anxiety) was how all these old, stinky, mentally ill homeless guys came onto me, some of them for real told me if I didn't fuck them they'd kill themselves.

Meanwhile, and this is where shit get's Alice on all of us...there was a group of like 6 homeless dudes (which I called the coven because they were all friends and always hung out in the same place) were all reading the PUI handbook The Game at the same time, and introducing it to me like it was the bible and that I should be so grateful to learn this sacred knowledge.

Men in their 60's wanted me to sleep with them in their tents, trailers and yes, hotel rooms. It was really fucking scary and I am shocked that I got out of there more or less unscathed.

Username: BestGarbagePerson

Not scary, but still ...I saw the Apostles.I was homeless in Hawaii in the late 80s and there was a group of voluntarily homeless men who called themselves Apostles and preached the gospel on the streets.

They were actually nice people, but one of them was an ex-banker who left his wife and children to live on the streets. I thought it was cruel, but he bragged about it, citing his love of Christ.

One day an Apostle asked me if I wanted a coffee, I said yes, so he took me into a Jack-In-The-Box and bought me coffee. All I had to do was listen to him talk about his beliefs.

Then the ex-banker showed up and sat down with us. He talked about offering coffee to an old homeless woman and once he got her into a booth, he started casting out her devils. He said the woman was terrified and trying to get away, but he wouldn't let her because he needed to get rid of those devils.

The other Apostle was visibly upset by this conversation. Oh, and there was the time I used an empty public restroom late at night and another man came in and started using the urinal directly next to mine, despite others being available. Let's just say that he wasn't urinating.

I quickly zipped up and left, but he followed me. I started running down the road and he got into his car and started following me. I kept running and knew where a friend of mine used to sleep on the beach. So I went there, but managed to duck around a corner.

The guy got out of his car and followed to where he thought I went, seeing someone asleep on the beach. My friend had been studying the martial arts for a decade and was in great shape. It was too dark and I didn't see what happened, but the game came back quickly and fled.

My friend didn't remember what happened, he was so groggy. Just some strange guy waking him up and there being a brief altercation.

(Note: I'm not proud of sicking a potential rapist on a friend. I was a skinny, starving, scared 19-year old reacting out of panic)

And then there was the old woman who carried a machete in her bag. Apparently, she was attacked once and she was ready to kill anyone who did it again.

Username: OvidPerl

Scariest: Losing your shit. Creepiest: The safest places to sleep without getting caught are the spookiest.

I squatted in an apartment complex built by the Masons in the 1700's. I had all of my clothes in a duffel bag and two laptops in my backpack. This was awhile ago, so laptops were still very expensive and heavy. I had to stash one away when I went to town to look for work.

The building was occupied, so there was no telling if I would come back to find that I only own one laptop and a one outfit now. I was walking in the city one night and got stopped by a cop -- for no reason -- and arrested.

This happened a lot. When I got out three months later I found the contents of my duffel bag strewn down three stories of unlit, dirty fire escape stairs.

The upstairs was two banquet halls separated by offices. During the day, I'd sneak up while karate classes were taking place in one banquet hall and I'd wedge a shim in the lock of the fire escape doors.

At night I'd come up the fire escape stairs and let myself in. I'd have to leave the lights off or be spotted from the street. It was the set of a horror film. Random slamming doors, floorboards creaking in a pattern towards you but no footsteps.

One night I was leaving the bathroom and heard my name spoken clear as day in the dark. I ran back to the windowless office I set up in and locked the door. Sat in silence and pitch black darkness for the rest of the night.

Turns out a friend had come up the fire escape looking for me when my cell phone ran out of minutes.

Username: [deleted]

I was homeless for about eight years, mostly in the mid west. I was able to travel to San Diego, which has a huge population of homeless people and tons if programs in place for aid.

I enjoyed my time there in comparison; I could easily shower, eat and find places to sleep without being harassed. The cops in the central city would be fine with you sleeping in parks at night as long as you were up and about by dawn.

I only ended up having to spange (ask for spare change) for about four months before I was able to gather enough money to go to a different state, get a cheap apartment and job search. It was the end of my homelessness and I'm very grateful for how California treated me.

That being said, the scariest thing I saw was actually border police in 2012. In San Diego, you can hop a trolley to go across the border to Tijuana. It was suggested to me to do so for easy work. I actually ended up jumping off the train because of how terrible they were treating people.

They were asking Americans to give them money, threatening them and arresting them if they gave them anything less than 20 bucks. I had heard stories, but as a small white girl, I noped the fuck out of there. I was not getting handled by them.

Other than that, theres always the fear of what the street calls "wingnuts". The homeless who are emotionally disturbed, have serious mental illness and are either barely functional or fully dysfunctional.

It's tough because you want to have sympathy for them, but they're so dangerous and unpredictable that you have to just distance yourself from them for self preservation.

It was not uncommon for me as a younger girl to see people looking over at me and having a good wank. I travelled in a group so luckily people would never approach me and I never spent time alone on the street without someone I trusted around.

Obviously this was really uncomfortable for me, but I tried my best to ignore it and generally speaking someone would stop them or fight them for being a creep. Being homeless is hard. I dont miss it.

Username: itookyourmatches

I was homeless in Ohio for almost a year and a half. I slept in my van until it ended up breaking down I was lucky enough to have a friend help with lodging at a pretty seedy motel but to the homeless just about any motel feels like a palace

A very scary situation that made me really evaluate my life happened about 5am in the motel. Mind you I was in recovery at that time, I was severely depressed and my anxiety was pretty extreme at the time it'd take a lot for me to even walk outside my door so eventually I just stayed in bed only to use the restroom for about a week before it happened.

I woke up in a panic covered in sweat I couldn't really breath it kinda felt like I was breathing through a straw I got up and noticed my legs felt like jello and my head was fuzzy. I had no phone so I had to walk to the front desk which felt like it took forever I could tell on the hotel clerks face I didn't look good.

The FD and EMS got there and did all the necessary testing.I remember one of them explaining to me that I could've just ran a mile and back and my heart rate wouldn't be as high as it was then.

As I get in the ambulance my heart rate,pulse and panic skyrocket and I kept wanting to sit up I guess in my head I thought I would breath better that way but that wasn't allowed so I begged the EMT's to hurry. I kept praying my last prayers in my head.

At the hospital I find out I have a blood clot in my lung and that it probably started in my leg from the lack of exercise/movement I had described.

I was discharged with blood thinners at 33 quickly left the hotel to move into a woman's shelter. Now I'm in my own apartment,have full custody of my kids,I'm thankful, sober and alive.

If you're struggling ask for help along the way! what you take out of your life experiences will help determine the future and hard times are sometimes essential in order to appreciate the things we often take for granted <3

Username: Tiltedcrown83

I was homeless at 18 for a few months in Jacksonville, FL. A homeless friend of mine got a job and said I shouldn't be homeless, so he got a motel room with 2 beds so I could crash and get a job easier (shelters req you wait in line at 2pm to get in which makes it impossible to get/hold a job). The only condition was that I had to buy the food with my EBT card and make sure he didn't smoke crack until his drug test. Easy enough.

About a month rolls by, he passes the drug test and is ready to crack up. He tells me if I want to stay with him I need to come with him to get some rocks. I just got a job so I couldn't refuse, so I obliged.

We start walking down this stretch of highway by the motel that is laden with hookers, cops, drug dealers, etc. We get to the gas station and he says to get a drink. He buys a glass pen and metal mesh (for smoking the crack) then tells me to wait by the front of the gas station.

I wait a few minutes and I see him emerge from behind the gas station having just got his crack. As soon as we start leaving the gas station we get SWARMED by drug dealers and pimps all pitching thier stuff to us.

"Hey man you want this chick? I'll give you a good deal!" "Hey lemme get your number I got the good shit". He says to just keep walking, they're like sharks around water.

One guy steps in front of him and says, "Lemme get your number man. I got some good shit this week" while clearly brandishing his pistol in his waistband. My friend couldn't refuse, so he gave him his number.

My friend told me he only wanted a couple rocks and then he'd be good to go, but I know now why the dealers all want his number. He had people coming all fucking night with crack. Shit was awful.

But that gas station experience was definitely terrifying. I had never felt like I was going to die until then.

Username: samskie

Maybe not the scariest, but definitely unnerving and strange. I was sleeping on the beach in Venice, CA. If you’re not familiar- it’s a tourist stop but also there’s tons of homeless people, a lot of mentally ill/tweakers etc, violence is fairly common.

One night I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a little strange. I sat up and looked around and about 20 feet away there was a guy sitting there staring at me masturbating.

My first thought was to yell at him but then I remembered watching a guy that looked like him steal a one-legged woman’s crutches and beat her with them earlier that day so I figured confrontation probably wasn’t the best approach.

But I also didn’t want to just ignore it so I turned around and sat there staring at him. For about 10 minutes we just sat there staring at each other as he jerked off until he just got up and walked away.

Another time a 350 lb guy holding a box cutter to my friend’s neck in the middle of the day in Skid Row in LA with about 6 cops watching from across the street, just laughing.

Edit: I just remembered a time when I was hitch hiking outside of Bakersfield. I just happened to be near a prison so it was gonna be really hard to get a ride. This guy pulled up finally but before he let me in, he said he was gonna shoot me in the fucking head if I pissed him off.

I said, you can let me go on the side of the highway if I start to bother you, any closer to LA is appreciated. He said he wasn’t gonna drop me on the side of the road. That he would shoot me in the fucking head.

I looked around and literally saw two wild dogs fighting on the train tracks as a tumbleweed blows by in this town of basically just a few closed down restaurants and figured my best bet was getting in the pickup.

Username: amercuri15

The scariest thing I ever saw... it was in Skid Row circa, 2005-2007. I was selling a controlled substance, I had a fairly sizable portion on me and a bunch of cash. I’m in an area of Skid Row, whereas dope (pills, crack, heroine,weed,etc) was being consumed and/or sold.

About fifty feet away from me was senior citizen (67 yrs old,) eating a sandwich, while sitting down on the curb. He was quiet, kept to himself, (fake name) Bob. Bob didn’t drink alcohol or use drugs.

Anout 100+ feet, up the street was a ‘youngster,’ headed in the direction of Bob. When the youth approached Bob, he kicked Bob’s head onto the curb, and he began stomping on Bob’s face and head. Within a matter of seconds, Bob’s head had a hole bigger than a golf ball,. The hole was in the back of the head. Bob’s blood was pouring out life a water faucet. Bob struggling to walk straight, gagging on blood, blood pouring from him, lots of it. Bob fought with such courage to hold onto life. His skin had already began to show a light shade of blue. His lips were discoloured. He began throwing up, uncontrollably in spasmodic motions. Bob’s hands were clenched into fists, fighting back death. There were several men within a five foot radius from, Bob, that could have prevented Bob’s demise.

The whole time, the youth who killed Bob, he watched Bob, expire in pure, bewilderment. Not a showing of any human emotion whatsoever. The police station is very, very close to where this happened. The Los Angeles PD did, a hard take-down on the perpetrator.

I remember being told, “do nothing,” from my supplier (a gangster with several people in his entourage... each of them toting hand gun/guns. Nobody, that day... nobody, did anything to save a life.

Username: boston617508

I was a crack addict at 19. I lived in Portland. I'd couch hop between two friends houses who were none the wiser to my substance abuse, but knew I had a previous problem. The other times I'd just wander the street and fall asleep wherever.

It was near Christmas time and I'd had a bit to drink and had some cash from my minimum wage job at the gas station, but my main connect wasn't trying to come out my way because he was spending time with his family. I made my way towards a really run down apartment building near 171st and Division.

I had seen some folks smoking under the stairs there before and figured I'd try my luck. Met a white guy under the stairs and he seemed to know the area a lot better than I did. He already had some and it was late so I threw down a 20 and he showed me an indoor stairwell to smoke in.

After a few hits he was pretty content and we started chatting a bit about where he was from and what he liked, and comes to find out, he was born a hermaphrodite. He asked me if I knew what that was and when the last time I had sex was. I told him it hadn't been that long (actually scored on hot or not), but he was pretty insistent I give him a go. H

e asked if I wanted to see his vagina and I politely declined, then he offered more hits if I did. He assured me I wouldn't see any penis and it would feel just the same and the crack made him really horny. I again declined and he got fairly upset, but said it was about time he went on his way.

I offered to pay him more for some rock, but he was no longer in a helpful mood, so I continued on in my quest for more, as that's what addicts do and there's nothing you can do to change it when you're coming down. Sadly this was not my wake up call and I didn't clean up for at least another six months.

In hindsight, I should have said yes to seeing it, because I've yet to this day meet a real hermaphrodite and I've expanded my horizons quite significantly.

Username: JustAnotherRedditor5