Anyway, that’s my past. I’m looking to the future now, no matter how bleak it seems to be. I’ve got Evan, and he’s got me. We get through every day together. When people walk past us, they stare. But it’s not a sympathetic i-wish-there-was-something-i-could-do-to-help-you stare. Oh no, it’s a you-got-yourself-into-this-mess-so-you-can-get-yourself-out-of-it stare. But they don’t seem to realize that we homeless people can’t necessarily get ourselves out of this mess. Most of us don’t choose not to have a home. We don’t choose to live our lives life this, but that’s how ordinary, middle-class and upwards people perceive us. Just a bunch of junkies who will happily eat out of a bin, hound people for money, and have a serious attitude problem. I would love to be able to prove them wrong, but who wants to listen? The answer is no one. Or at least, that’s how I feel.
One valuable thing that I have learnt from living on the streets for three years is not to take things for granted. Being homeless has made me realize how fortunate others are. They have all their luxury goods, like designer clothes, a swanky penthouse apartment, top quality furniture, and gourmet meals to eat. How I would love to live a life like that! Having said that though, in a way I am quite lucky. There’s always articles in the newspapers or on the telly, describing horrific natural disasters that tear families apart and rip up their homes. I at least have a brother to comfort me when times get really tough. And then there are both adults and children just like me whose countries are in conflict; those people cannot escape from the wars that are happening around them. Some of them can’t even cross the road without the risk of being shot. That’s when I am grateful for the little things that I have – a brother who loves me and will never leave me, the occasional kindness from someone who drops a pound coin at my feet, or the fact that I can go and visit my mother’s grave whenever I want, and can pay my respects to her, knowing that she has gone to a better place. I have learned to live my life to the full, and I am truly thankful to my brother who has brought me up, cared for me, made sure I have always had enough to eat – even if it means that he goes hungry for a day or two. I owe everything to Evan.
There is one thing that I would like everyone who is living a better life than me to know, and that is that not all homeless people are what people portray us to be. In our case, Evan and I have tried to help ourselves - we’ve been round most child support agencies, but no one is interested. How are we supposed to live a better life when no one wants to know? I’d love to have a proper home, but until we can find a way in which we can get back on our feet, my home is on the streets.
