Camp Hope Ground Zero – Part 1

The letter below is from one of our unhoused neighbors. Names have been redacted for protection.

I did it again Dear Members of the Loveland City Council, Here I am again — writing, because that’s what I know best. I’ve written to you before. I’ve even stood up and spoken at your meetings — and believe me, that was not easy.

It took everything I had, emotionally and financially. Every time I do that, I lose money that means survival for a homeless person like me. But I keep doing it because silence has never helped anyone. I don’t know whether the recent claims that the City of Loveland stole valuable property from the unhoused are true — but honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. I’ve tried to file complaints myself about things that have happened to me, and nothing ever changes.

It’s heartbreaking that this community isn’t outraged. If the city council stopped spending taxpayer money foolishly, maybe every one of us could have a safe place to live. I understand that we — the unhoused — are often seen as a problem, an embarrassment to the community. But imagine living every single day in fear that the police might hurt you for simply existing. Imagine fighting for your life year after year. That’s what it’s like for us.

If I had money, I know you would treat me differently. But I don’t — and still, I am trying to do something good, something big. You may see me as just another homeless person draining the system, but I am so much more than that. Some of you know that I came from therapeutic foster care. I was emancipated at 17 with no home, no job, and no life skills — and I have been homeless ever since.

I live with PTSD and mental health struggles because of what I went through in that system. For years I battled addiction, traveling across America looking for a place to belong. When I finally found Colorado, my life began to change. I got clean. I went to college. Today, I hold three degrees. Now, for the past four years, I’ve poured my pain into writing. One of those books, Neloria: The Cursed Tongue, became the foundation for something greater — The Neloria Tour: 48 States of Magic (2026–2027).

This tour is about more than fantasy and fiction — it’s about healing, resilience, and visibility for foster youth. I plan to donate at least 600 books to foster youth programs across the U.S. and give $1 from every sale to organizations that support children in care. My first tour stop is already confirmed at Boulder Bookstore on October 15, 2026, and I dream of ending the journey with a homecoming event in Loveland — the city I still want to believe in. But if Loveland continues to treat its unhoused residents with cruelty instead of compassion, I cannot bring my homecoming here.

How can I celebrate hope in a place that chooses to turn away from its own people? This idea — this dream — came from someone you tried to push away. And yet, here I am — still fighting, still writing, still believing that change is possible. I am trying to raise awareness and funds for children who have been forgotten, just like I once was. Maybe this letter won’t change your mind. Maybe your hearts are still hardened. But you will not stop me from trying to make real change for the community I love. The only question left is — do you love me back?

With hope,
———–

Author | Educator | Former Foster Youth | Homeless Advocate