I grew up in Los Angeles in the 80s and 90s.

I’ve seen poverty at every level.
People surviving on sidewalks.
Bugged out. Addicted. Gone.

I’ve seen crack smoked on the RTD bus.
Seen people punched in the face.
Robbed. Stolen from. Killed.

Downtown LA. Skid Row.
That’s a different layer of despair.

At 12 years old, I was homeless in Los Angeles.
I’ve lived the dirt, grime, and filth of this city.

At 14, I was living in a van with my mom in Dogtown, Santa Monica.
Heavy homeless presence.
I wasn’t observing it.
I was inside it.

So when I say this has been building for a long time, understand,
This isn’t theory.

It’s a cycle.
Human beings crushed.
Ground down by life.
And by those who design it that way.

Politicians.
Bureaucrats.
Corporations.
The smiling enablers.

Since COVID, it accelerated.

What used to hide in certain blocks
now spills into every crack and crevice.

Tents on sidewalks.
Under bridges.
Inside bushes.
On rooftops.

People disheveled.
Lethargic.
Sick.
Discarded.

It looks dystopian.
But it’s real.

Blame addiction.
Blame laziness.
Blame mental illness.

Choose whatever narrative makes it easier to look away.

Meanwhile, the machine keeps humming.
Pointing fingers. Playing theater.
Rot spreading from the inside out.

I’ve seen people who were stable
lose everything after COVID.
Businesses shut down.
Savings evaporated.

Don’t think it can’t touch you.

This isn’t random.
This isn’t accidental drift.

There’s a pattern here.

And above it all, God is still in control.

This… is The Signal.