It is hard luck on a guy to have expensive tastes
It is hard luck on a guy to have expensive tastes, but no actual money in his pocket, and no real job. My Father had told me that, with him having good connections and knowing many rich and famous people, I would never really need to earn myself a living, fair enough. He had been saying this for many years, and I had believed it, but then my Father died, and my life then went on to prove how wrong his calculations were. After this happened, neither my uncle or and other relatives took the slightest notice of me, or showed any interest in my career, which was in fact non-existent. I lived in a Stately Home, this home was situated in the Northeast of Cornwall, and it was a pleasant place. But to my despair I found out that my own home was to be sold from beneath my feet. The sod decided to sell up and turn all traditional and give the money to his eldest son, I never knew that was a tradition, I always thought that the house itself would be passed down the family line, not the money it was bought for. Either way, I'd be out of a home, as me and my brother never really got on at all, and he was very spiteful.
My family had disowned me, I only had two real and practical choices, I could beg to my brother, or I could beg to some other relative, neither of them suited me, as a proud English man, what is more important, his castle or his pride? Now that is a tricky question. Nevertheless I decided to try the first.
I entered the house to find a rather smug look on my brothers face, and I was greeted with the words "Awe, come crawling back have you?" I went on to argue about my position, we both knew that what had been done was wrong, but getting him to declare it is a whole new ball game. This option was well and truly out-of-the-window.
Later that evening I thought of another idea. I was a little bit famous; this was because my father was a very important figure in the world of politics. Maybe I could sell ...
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I entered the house to find a rather smug look on my brothers face, and I was greeted with the words "Awe, come crawling back have you?" I went on to argue about my position, we both knew that what had been done was wrong, but getting him to declare it is a whole new ball game. This option was well and truly out-of-the-window.
Later that evening I thought of another idea. I was a little bit famous; this was because my father was a very important figure in the world of politics. Maybe I could sell my story to the tabloids, but would this earn me enough money to live on for the rest of my life? This idea was also quickly discarded. I knew that I only really had one option left, it was something that I was totally unprepared for, no training, nothing. I would indeed have to get a job and start a career for myself. I was totally determined.
It turns out that I had extremely over exaggerated my dedication and motivational skills. It was very hard for me to be rejected from all the jobs I applied for, it turns out that coming from a rich family wont get u anywhere in this big wide world. Although most people think the opposite, it is simply not true. I was rapidly running out of money, I had gradually slid down in the standard of the motels, in which I spent most of the day. I had nearly lost all my dignity and applied for a job in the local fast-food restaurant, but I managed to restrain myself. But who am I to judge? I was quickly running out of options, homelessness was quickly approaching.
Having no qualifications in this world, is maybe the hardest position one could imagine being in. Well maybe not, but it was pretty high up on my 'list of importance'. I now found myself sliding down in many standards other than living conditions, such as hygiene and health. And this was it, my last night in civilised living conditions, what would I do tomorrow? My pride was not just dented, but well and truly, squashed.
Tomorrow came, then the next day. I began to clutch a straws, the straws of sophistication. But I was sliding down, down the slide of hope. Basically, I was living on the streets, what's the point in hiding it? You are what you are, theirs no changing that. A strong feeling of disbelief and anger built up inside me, how could this be happening to me? Was this my fault? Had I brought this upon myself? My day was dominated by my mental confusion. I was mentally confused, physically a wreck and emotionally scarred. I used to take so much for granted in my life, I never cared for others. But now, I am indeed a new man, but this doesn't help with my predicament.
Crime almost dominated my life at this point. It was all that was keeping me alive, I owed my life to the men who taught me how to shoplift. We were all in the same situation, and one only ever came across a few unfriendly individuals each day. I quickly learned that to avoid these persons, I'd have to loose the southern accent. The anger was still building up inside me, I found myself thinking about the strangest things, I even though about killing my brother, would this help my situation? I mean, I knew where he lived, how would I go about killing him? He'd almost certainly have the most sophisticated electronic security device on the market, but I know him better than anyone else in the world, but still, how would me killing him, be beneficial? Satisfaction? Vengeance? Pride?
I wasn't thinking straight, I couldn't kill my brother, he's my own flesh and blood. I couldn't do it, but how could he leave me homeless? How could he know that I was out on the streets and carry on with his life? For days, I found myself swaying to and fro, arguing with myself over this matter, but in the end, I found that the only sensible thing I could do was try and reconcile with my brother. I had travelled through a twisting and turning whirlwind world of emotional, physical and not to mention mental trauma. I had no options left, I had to make a reconciliation with my brother, so that's what I did, I travelled down to his mansion, and had a bit of trouble getting in, past the guards, but I managed to reach the front door eventually. I pressed the front door bell as I stood there trying to think about what his reaction would be, it had been nearly a year since we last talked, and we must have both changed an awful lot. He answered the door, well rather his butler answered the door, and he fetched my brother. I was rather upset to hear that I was called a tramp, but I suppose that's all I was. He didn't even recognise me at first, then we made eye contact and he at once invited my into the house with a subtle urgency. We both talked, and I found out that he had missed me, I also found out that subconsciously I had also missed him.
My life had taken a turn for the worst, but I stuck at it. I had been through crime and poor living standards, but its life, and its full of ups and downs. We just have to learn that life is something we have to learn to deal with, if my life had gone on being perfect, I wouldn't be the man that I am today, some say its fate, and we cant change this, but I disagree. I could have decided to do the wrong thing and ruin my life completely, but I decided to do the right thing, the thing that needed to be done for a long time. And things turned out for the best, but unfortunately, this doesn't always happen to everyone.
