On 6 November 2016, my computer was stolen.
Add up all the stressors in my life and deduct the stress relief in my life (none) and the result is that my body is weak. I am just as weak as if I had a horrible flu. I want to get up. I have the willpower to get up.
The other day, for example, when I was packing my bag, I was on my hands and knees to roll my sleeping bag and my left arm collapsed, and I fell down. I am physically run down.
In old songs and books, people talk about being so broken that they lay down and die. I always thought it was a metaphor: it is not a metaphor. If I meet my end, that is probably how it will happen. I will sit down or lay down somewhere, and I will lack the strength to get up again.
I need to heal. I need shelter, food, water, medicine, and physical safety. I need security of all of those things, which means that I need to be able to depend on having all of those things today and tomorrow. Said differently, I need to know that I have a place to sleep tomorrow, that if I eat this bread today that I will have more food tomorrow, that if I take this medicine today that I will have more medicine tomorrow, that no one will steal or damage my property, and that no one will attack me or sexually assault me. (Yes, I have been sexually assaulted and another man tried but I stopped him.)
I am not healing. My health is getting worse and the pace at which my strength is declining is quickening. I am too sick to work, and I do not have enough money to buy the things I need to heal so that I can work again.
I do not know how long it will be before I lay down and cannot get up again, but I do know that if it happens, I will not be able to get on the Internet and ask for help and it will be too late for you to help me from afar. Without more help, I will die. If you do not have other ways to help, then sending money is the best substitute.
