When You Know It’s Time To Stop Talking to Random Drug Addicts on the Street

No more street outreach for me

Michelle Marie Warner
The Memoirist

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Young white man in a blue hoodie and jeans, sitting with knees up next to a gray concrete wall, holding his hand up with a sign that says, “Stop drugs”
Photo by rebcenter-moscow on Pixabay

I have a habit of meeting random strangers.

From the moment I learned to talk, I chatted it up with everyone I met. My dad said I’d make new friends every time we went grocery shopping. I’ve maintained that reputation as an adult, to my kids’ embarrassment. Not only do I meet people everywhere I go, I have a knack for finding the folks who need support.

I used to want to help people in need, but now, everything has changed.
I settled my kids to bed around 9 PM last Thursday. We heard an unexpected knock at our front door. I instinctively peeked out their vertical blinds to see who would be coming around at this hour. I didn’t recognize the man at our door. Even though I didn’t want to, I felt compelled to answer.

I peeked through the peephole, and he started talking. Let’s call him Mike since I forgot his name. I knew him from the streets but had never invited him to our house.

“Hey, it’s Mike. You know, we met and you said we could kick it sometime (I did no such thing). Do you have a dryer? I’m soaked out here, and…” He sounded high, rambling on, manic and disorganized.

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Michelle Marie Warner
The Memoirist

Writer of all things personal, socially conscious, sensitive, single LGBTQIA+ mom. Ready to bite off more than I've been chewing. michellewarner718@gmail.com