As I awakened, I found myself surrounded by darkness. My eyes adjusted slowly, and a faint light began to seep into my vision. The sun hadn't risen yet, I could tell from the lingering shadows stretching across the ground.
I sat up, my body stiff from the cold, and crossed my legs. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to meditate. Was I doing it right? I wasn't sure. My only knowledge of meditation came from a sage who once visited the park, demonstrating the practice to a gathered crowd. He spoke about its importance, about finding peace within oneself.
I wondered if peace was something a boy like me could ever grasp.
I was sitting on my bed, or at least, what passed for one. In truth, it was just a few sheets of crumpled newspaper I had found the day before. I had laid them down in the alleyway, hoping they would provide even the slightest bit of comfort against the cold, hard ground.
Yesterday was a good day. Some kind souls had left enough food for me to eat. Of course, they hadn't handed it to me directly, kindness rarely worked that way in my world. Instead, they had tossed it into the garbage, letting me find it for myself.
"Who am I...?"
"Is that your question?"
My name is Kai. Or at least, that's the name I gave myself.
I was either born on the streets or abandoned here, thrown away like trash before I was old enough to remember. I have no parents, no past, only the life I scrape together day by day.
The name 'Kai'? I saw it in a movie once. Someone had set up an open-air theater in the park, playing old films on a tattered white sheet. I was lucky enough to live beside the park, so I could catch glimpses of those moments, stories from a world far beyond my own. The name stuck with me, and just like that, I became 'Kai.'
I'm six years old now, a big boy. At least, that's what I tell myself.
The park has everything we need. It gives us shade in the summer, a place to hide when it rains, and sometimes, even a bit of entertainment when people gather. But more than that, the park gave me something most street kids never get, an education.
I can read now, all thanks to a woman who used to teach a group of students there. On certain days, she would hold an open class, writing letters and words on a small chalkboard. I never sat with the students, never raised my hand or answered questions. But I watched. I listened. And slowly, I learned.
The more I watched the beautiful teacher sing and teach the children, the more I learned.
Her voice carried through the park, soft yet full of life, turning simple lessons into something almost magical. Every word she spoke, every song she sang, became a part of me. I memorized the sounds, traced the letters in my mind, and slowly, knowledge found its way into my world.
Some days are good. Some days are not.
I survive by eating whatever scraps people throw away, digging through garbage bins like it's the most natural thing in the world. This is my life, one of leftovers and forgotten things.
Maybe it's only fitting. After all, on the day I was born, someone threw me away like garbage too.
There was a homeless man named Kelvin. He found me in the garbage and, in his own way, adopted me.
For four years, he was my family, the only one I ever knew. He taught me how to survive, how to find food, how to stay warm when the nights turned cold. He wasn't rich, or powerful, or important to the world. But to me, he was everything.
And then, one day, he was gone.
A hit-and-run. No name in the news, no investigation, no justice. Just another homeless man lying in the street, unnoticed, uncared for.
Because in this world, no one stops for people like us.
I sat beside his body, waiting. For what, I wasn't sure.
Eventually, the authorities came and took him away. No ceremony, no farewell—just another body removed from the streets. I watched them go, my mind blank, my chest hollow.
I didn't know what to do. So I just walked into the alleyway and sat there, staring at nothing. I felt alone. But maybe I was too young to truly understand what that meant.
Now, I do. Now, I know what it means to be alone.
Some days, I get enough food, and some days, I don't. That's just how it is.
Sometimes, the police or people come and hit me, telling me to go away. Maybe they think I shouldn't be here. So I run. I run as fast as I can.
But after a while, I always come back. This is my place, after all.
They were all good people, each with their own way of doing things.
I've seen the same people who beat me being kind to their children, smiling, hugging them, bringing them food. I think it's just about love. They love their children, so they give them everything. They don't love me, so they push me away. That's just how it is.
But it's okay. I still hope they all have a good life, just like I do.
One day, I was watching an open play in the park. It was a good day, I had found enough food in the garbage, so my stomach was full. The actors were amazing, and I was enjoying the show.
Then the park's security guard came and started hitting me. He wanted me to leave. Maybe people didn't like seeing a boy like me, wearing torn clothes, standing there among them. Maybe it made them uncomfortable.
I guess that's just how things are.
After taking some beating, I smiled and started running, just like always.
But for some reason, the good man looked even more irritated when he saw me smile. I don't know why. Maybe he didn't like it. Maybe I wasn't supposed to smile.
I ran, ran a lot, and he chased me.
It felt funny, like a game. He was shouting bad words and throwing things at me, but that's okay. He's a good man. I've seen him smile so beautifully at his wife, holding her hand, speaking softly to her.
Maybe he just doesn't like me. But that's fine.
After a while, I looked back and realized he was no longer chasing me.
Suddenly, I felt lonely. It was strange, just a moment ago, I was running, laughing. But now, he is gone, and I feel... sad.
I sighed and kept moving forward. As I looked around, I noticed something, I didn't recognize this place. I had never been here before.
I saw an alleyway that looked just like the one I lived in. The narrow walls, the scattered trash, the faint smell of damp paper, it all felt familiar.
So, I walked in. It felt like home.
But as I looked around, something felt different. No one was here. The ground was dirtier than usual, the air heavier. This wasn't a place where someone lived.
Still, it looked just the same as mine. Almost like my alley had a twin.
But suddenly, something caught my eye. In the corner, something was shining, a deep red glow, bright and beautiful.
I stepped closer, my heart beating a little faster. It looked just like something I had seen in a movie at the park. In that story, a great king gave a sparkling stone on a ring to a princess and asked her to be his queen.
"What was its name…?"
I thought hard, trying to remember. And then it came to me.
"Oh, I remember!"
"DIAMOND…!"