Personal Narrative: The Homeless

304 Words2 Pages
I knew my life had hit rock bottom when i was on the pavement, in a worn in suit at the edge of China-town wearing my vomit like a bib. I 'm at the bottom of a very dark, dark pit. It 's engulfing every last ounce of hope I was holding when another friend accepted me to sleep on their couch for a few weeks. Until they were sick of my endless broken promises about finding a job and using their money for anything other than alchol to cope with the enclosing darkness. Now I have spent my last ten dollars on a greasy pork bun. If you had seen me only months before, you would have never, never expect me to become homeless. Well off, big house and an amazing wife. But the alchol was always the problem. It was the third person in our relationship, it was small until I started to skip work because of the hang overs and the absent of alchol rotted my…show more content…
I became co-dependent on the alchol to talk and act for me. I was it 's puppet and the alchol was my master. A master that abandoned me. Thrown back into reality, I realise I have no where to go. The apending weight of fear crushed me further down the pit. You yourself would never think twice when looking at someone homeless that it would happen to you. The ignorance and luvious lifestyle didn 't prepare me for my first night being homeless. Sure it will provide you all the wordly possessions you desire but what about when you don 't have this lifestyle to hold you hand? When just like the alchol, it decides to leave you. Wandering down the neon orange lights of a deserted street, feel the darkness cling around me and making the air
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