291. Title First:
This piece is dedicated to all the people who are living on the street through circumstance or by choice. There’s more to them than we will ever know. Those who judge them have no right to.
And this is also for Hiroshima-Taro.
I didn’t want to put my title first. In fact, I didn’t want to write it at all. That’s not who I was anymore. I knew my street friends would laugh at me and I knew they’d be doing it in good faith, but I felt like it would be a jab in my side. I didn’t want them to think I thought I was better than them; I wasn’t. I was one of them now too. In fact, I suspected more than a few of them had a title or letters after their name but had decided to leave that all behind when they’d left their former lives.
Being a doctor was nothing special. It was just a tiny part of who I had been. Now I didn’t even practice, at least, not surgery anyway. The closest I came to that was patching my friends up after a brawl over a sleeping space or after a drunken night out.
Yep, I preferred the street life now. Out on the street people were real, they were dirty and raw and it was the first time I felt I could be myself.
No more Doctor for me.