I looked down the street, packed full business men and woman rushing, picking their path though the mass, on their way to the daily grind. The auto matrons ready for the exertion that lies on the path in front of them. They don’t even glance of me, face forward, and ignore all others that are out of their vision. They feel nothing, they move with the swamp oblivions to the world around them focused on their objectives. The apartments, offices, shopping centres, tower above like giants looking down on us. They don’t allow me in there I and am just a piece of dirt on their shoes.

Dark alley are scattered down the streets, black and gloomy, this is our domain. It’s a whole new and different world, an upside down, inside out weird world. I really hate being here but I cannot escape to the auto matrons’ world. The huge colourful signs covering the world like a plague, spreading through the ‘normal’ population. The red, double decker buses adding to the already bad fuming traffic. The Taxi drivers blowing their horns, getting increasingly aggressive, infecting the population. I gaze upon the huge statue of Anteros the Golden Angel, pointing his bow and arrow at me.

We Will Write a Custom Essay Specifically
For You For Only $13.90/page!

order now

Anteros was the god of requited love, the avenger of unrequited love. I wish someone in this world would love or care for me. These heartless people around me are stereotyping my kind, always thinking the worst of use They judge the book by the cover; they never open the book and read what’s inside. They think that we are all here because we are bad, we gamble, we are addicts to drugs, alcohol and smoking. Well not all of us are like that. Jim sitting next to me was thrown out of his house, because he lost the job due to the credit crunch.

He had nowhere to go, he couldn’t get a job because he didn’t have a permanent address. Then Steve lost his home and family as his life broke down. He lost his job and his house, and ended up here sitting opposite me. These people in their old coats, baggy dirty jumpers and smelly trousers don’t look great, but they are very good people. They helped me out in my first days and weeks, through the really hard times. They told me how and where to get food, water and shelter. They are the closest I have got to a family at the moment.

We are all victims of circumstance clawing our way back into society to achieve some respect and dignity; we don’t deserve to be here. I am Bethany Matthews, I have been on the streets of London for a number of weeks, I cannot say exactly how long, it blurs together, the days, the weeks . Life delivered me to the streets pretty much at the worst time possible, in the middle on October, the cold setting in and any summer heat fading quickly. I am freezing, squatting an old abandoned, dirty, shop doorway with a couple of other people in the same situation as me, and sharing body heat.

I felt dirty in every sense of the word. It was a comforting to be with others. Sometimes I had to stay in the doorway alone, no one to talk to, and no one to look after me. I started my life on the streets with a hundred pounds I thought that was enough to get started and make a new life, how wrong I was. I now only have twenty pounds left to last my life time. I have nothing, but cloths on my back, which are already dirty and old. My mum and dad used to do my washing and cleaning, I took them for granted, I love them so much. There is only one thing I have left of them.

My sliver diamond encrusted locket. My dad gave it to me on my 10th birthday, it has never left my neck since he first put it on I hide it now, I am afraid it will be stolen from me. We were a proper family, then. I remember my dad putting the locket around my neck; I lifted my hair to make it easier for him. I can still smell him; a very male scent that was individual. I looked down at the locket, it was beautiful. I opened it to see two small pictures. On one side there is me and the other my mum and dad standing side by side smiling at me. Oh! How that picture changed 3 years later.

Post Author: admin


I'm Irvin!

Would you like to get a custom essay? How about receiving a customized one?

Check it out