Man does not live on bread alone. In the worst of times, we all need something that helps us take our heads out of our misery, even if it's just for a short while - so we can recharge batteries and find the strength to keep going.
You should know that, Moshi.
Once upon a time, in the early 90s, I was homeless for 3 years. I had a pregnant wife 10 years my junior, who screwed everyone but me. But I thought I loved her, so I thought I could fix it.
We found an abandoned house and squatted in it. I kept what food I could get cold by submerging it in a creek in the backyard, held in place by a stolen grocery cart. I turn on the electricity illegally, next month, the power company took the meter. I bypassed that and got power again. Next month, they cut the lines at the street and I was under investigation for utilities fraud.
Then my son was born. Before we left the hospital, the authorities took my first born son away from me.
I was devastated. I became a drug and alcohol addict. My wife got to the point that the only way she'd have sex with me was if I gave her drugs in trade.
I STILL thought I loved her.
It got to the point where we went door to door, begging for food. ( Because we had sold our food stamps to get drugs and alcohol.) Sometimes, we would go to Walmart and search the parking lot for money folks had dropped when they pulled the keys out of their pockets, etc. Suprising what the wind blows behind the soda machines.) Spent 2 winters in a house with no windows, no heat, sleeping under as many blankets as we could get, wearing the cleanest dirty clothes we could scrounge from the pile in the other room, after shaking out the bugs and spiders.
Finally, I found a job doing roofing, just to over hear my co workers discussing how one of them had been screwing my wife behind my back, the one who was supposed to be my best friend. Needless to say, the job didn't work out. I devised a plan to find a gun and take them both out, then do myself. (Glad that never happened.)
Near the end of those 3 years, I had lost all pride, all will to live. I was existing. I cared about nothing. I was as low as I could be, in my soul.
The last year of that mess, I found an escape. I found an old battery operated boombox. I started recording music from the radio on cassette tapes my wife would steal for me, in trade for anything I could find that would get her high. It was a miserable life, and this is the short version, it was much worse than I can explain. Not that it's relevant, but that wife is currently serving 20 years in prison for murder.
It took a lot of counseling, time spent in a mental institute, and faith in a power greater than us all, to bring me to where I am today.
Reason I'm telling this story: The only thing I looked forward to was that boombox and my recordings. Without that, life had no meaning. Seriously. It broke a few times, but due to my need for it, I learned how to repair/replace the recording head on it. ( Can't do it now, that part of my life is foggy as hell.) It was my escape from reality. As long as I had the boombox, a few batteries, and a cassette tape, I could survive. Sounds silly to you, I'm sure.
Funny thing is, I'm grateful to have lived those 3 terrible years. It helped me become who I am today.
Moral of the story, sometimes people get so low, so weary of the struggle to live day to day, that they will attach to one thing and that one thing can be their source of light, happiness, even if only for a while.
Thank you for listening. Love you Noah! Strive on, Brother!