He tried to sleep under the bridge because it was the only place where the wind didn’t cut through his clothes. But sleep outside isn’t sleep it’s a negotiation.
Every sound becomes a threat.

Every shadow becomes a possibility.
Every footstep becomes a decision: stay still or run.
He slept in micro‑bursts, ten minutes at a time.

A clinician later called it “insomnia.”
He called it “staying alive.”
When he finally got into a shelter bed, he couldn’t sleep there either. Too many people. Too much noise. Too much unpredictability. Staff said he was “agitated.” He said he was “alert.”

Hypervigilance wasn’t a disorder.
It was a skill he couldn’t turn off.
And no one asked why.

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By the Street Sentinel