LAST MAY, NATE MARTIN LEFT his parents’ house in New Hampshire with less than a thousand dollars and little else. He’d been discharged from the military six years earlier, couldn’t afford college, and couldn’t find a job. He arrived in Seattle with no prospects, no hope, and no direction. On a whim, he tagged along with a group of people he met at a bus stop who were on their way to the roving homeless encampment Nickelsville. That night, he slept in a tent, but for the first time in years, he felt like he had a home. This month, as Nickelsville residents prepare to move to yet another—as of press time, undetermined—new location, Martin’s still with them, working to build a sustainable, viable community. He has hope now. And he has a reason to live.

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There was one little image of the Space Needle going through my head, so I decided to come out West, see Seattle for a little while, and when all of my things were stolen or sold off, I was just going to find trouble and get myself killed. But when I found Nickelsville, it gave me a sense of purpose. I saw all of these personalities, all of these people fighting for the simple human right to have a safe place to sleep. It gave me something to strive for, something good to do.

Fortunately, I was already extremely self-reliant when I came here. Allowing myself to rely on others—that’s the greatest lesson that I’ve learned here. A person can stay on their own for a very long time, but solitude wears away at the human heart.

I’ve had a small falling out with most of my family, unfortunately. But I speak to my mom through Facebook. I tell her that I’m alive, first and foremost.

There’s always food. There’s always people who are willing to cook or willing to teach you how to cook. It turns out that you can do some really interesting things with some random stuff. The other day, I just grabbed five cans from the shelf, opened them up, and made a really interesting bean soup. Go figure.

I’ve always had a problem making friends. I try not to be a very emotionally attached person. I learned this the hard way: People I get attached to are eventually going to move on with their lives and leave me behind. And I’m going to have to do the same thing to other people eventually. Nothing in life is everlasting.

But I do have a lot of respect for people in here. I’d like to call them friends. I’m not sure it’s the right term. But in a pinch, we’re family.

Rather than have a tent, I built a little shack out of pallets and plywood that we brought from another site. I’m not a carpenter. There are more nails in that one little project than I’ve used in my entire frickin’ life. And the roof leaks horribly. But it works. It’s spacious. It has a lot of little shelves and hanging things.

The car that I drove out here from New Hampshire got towed away. It cost too much for me to get it out of hock, so I let it go. Things are things. Things get lost, they get stolen, they get broken. It’s the human connection that’s important.

If someone here has a problem with a part of their life, I listen. Over the last year, I’ve been able to gather a loose network of resources that people often need. They come to me and they say, “Hey, I have a problem.” I say, “Okay, thank you for sharing. Let’s get this thing straightened out.” It’s an awesome thing to watch somebody slowly put their life together and not go back to what started the problem in the first place.

I was labeled a sociophobe when I was in the military, right at the end of my contract. I had to go see a shrink because I was having what I thought were panic attacks. Turns out it was social phobia, which means I don’t deal well with large crowds. I still have mild panic attacks, but it’s nowhere near what it was when I was first diagnosed. This place has literally drawn me out of my shell.

I will not be here forever. I’m going to stay around until there’s a permanent site. I’m going to give a couple of my ideas to the campers, make sure they work. And then I’m going to go on with my life.

The last time I had a plan, it went horribly awry. So I’m just going to play this one by ear. I’m going to use this place as a springboard. When I’m comfortable again and this place is nice and settled, I’m going to try to go back into electronics because that’s my passion. If that doesn’t work out, I’m open.