Thanks. I was really interested in how the whole street life thing worked. So, I sold everything but my car. Lived in my car until I met a group of people my age that were all druggies, thieves, etc. By the time I fell in with them it had been a couple months of living off fast food and malt liquor and temporary friendships of other seedy people. I knew enough to get by and not seem like a regular ass poor white guy that followed the rules for most of his life. Except weed. Always loved weed. With these people, I learned how to scam, how to steal, do anything just to get fucked up again. Eventually crack became the drug of choice. Once that line was crossed, life was different. Earth was different. Community was different. Everyone you encounter is also a crack head. Everything you do revolves around getting more crack. I could seriously write an entire ethnography, like a full on culture study about crack heads and that subculture. It's like another form of human life. My car was always my fallback though. I always had a place to go, a place to sleep, a means of more. Until one day I lent it (like a dumbass) to a fellow druggy in order to go trade a security system we scammed from home depot, to the main crack dealer in exchange for crack. Well, he never came back. He got the drugs, started smoking them, lent the car to some bitch named Keisha and she got it impounded. After 2 days of waiting (it wasn't unheard of for a crack head to go on a quick errand and return a day later) I was like fuck it, I'm done. Left them all, got the first job I could, saved as much as I could to get back to where I grew up and just reintegrated into society. Within a couple months I had another job and started using my gi bill.

So yeah, I'm kinda weird.