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Homeless Essay

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When one door closes another one opens- right? So how come in my case, the doors just keep dosing; just suggesting to me that I am a complete and utter failure. My partner left me; I lost my job as an accountant on corruption rumours, just as I was starting to sort my life out. Back then, I used to think how wonderful life was- how I used to come home after earning a decent wage, then cuddle up to my partner, Alice, at night. We thought about having kids you know. We made up names and thought about how nice it would be. ...read more.


Coffee- that is all I can remember from the journey. Just gallons of coffee being gulped down into my stomach with a loud gurgling noise, before feeling sick after drinking too much full- fat milk. It is a shame that I drunk so much-1 most probably could have negotiated my way to a cheaper fare, but too much caffeine is not good for you. "Welcome to Kings' Cross St. Pancras a sign said. A sign that tried to promote the look of a grotty, concrete building that was covered with a thick coat of dodgy gloss paint. A few hundred yards later, I found myself staring out onto a road, which was packed with hundreds of cars, and a pavement that was bustling with pedestrians, all over- shadowed by cold, grey buildings. ...read more.


But as more stone cold buildings went past, I felt less safe. All of the knife crime you hear about? Scary- isn't it? I saw a tube station, somewhere near Tower Bridge. My footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, and the narrow tunnel that befell me. I saw a small alcove, away from the main area of the station, but in a great light. I unpacked my sleeping bag gingerly, afraid of my first night on the streets. Once I had fluffed up my pillow, I gently lulled myself off to sleep. As I was nodding off, a group of rowdy, drunken teenagers came pummelling down the stairs of the station, and into the floodlit section where I lay. "Whaddyou want?" I questioned. ...read more.

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