Personal Narrative: Homeless, Living In The Car

As Greg blew into his saxophone, the sad song wafted out into the auditorium. He began to remember his past, his parents dying, him becoming homeless and finding a saxophone on the street and learning how to play it without no help, people throwing money in the bucket when Greg’s playing the saxophone. Thanking the man who heard him playing the instrument on the street and made him an artist, and making him the man he is today, the life he never expected. Going through all the incidents he went through his life, the bad times of him sleeping on the streets, no food, begging on the streets playing the saxophone. Greg is 45 today, it is Greg’s last concert and his birthday, he is dressed up in a black suit with a red tie, his bald head shining

Personal Statement Fourteen and homeless is where I found myself four years ago. My mother (a hard working single parent of two.) set sights for a better living situation in the big apple. Unfortunately with one suitcase, no money and two young children the only choice for my mother was to seek refuge in a homeless shelter. Contrary to popular belief, that growing up homeless could potentially harm a child, it has had a positive impact on my life while being a reminder of the humble beginnings I came from. Growing up homeless assisted in building my character, a blood thirsty determination to achieve, and self awareness.

Dropping Mr. Potato Head, I dash for the door. Down the stairs, I sprint as my heart rate increases and worst-case scenario thoughts infiltrate my brain. I peek into the office. Nothing. Where could she be? I check the kitchen, then the living room — still no sign of my mom. Could she be hurt, or worse, dead? To the basement, I continue my search, but my efforts are to no avail. I sit down, defeated and terrified that I am home alone.

Unemployment, family illnesses, poverty, and low wages. All of these things can lead to homelessness, and there is no way to tell if or when the day will come when the transition happens. Many people think that it couldn't happen to them, they have a job and are well set. However, this belief isn't always true. It can take one event to knock over a stable family and send them spiraling down and out of their beloved home. Early in my life, while I was attending elementary school, my family was affected by this troublesome plight. My father was raising me and my sister and decided to leave the army to spend more time with us. He found a job at a generator company, and then an advanced auto-parts store. Next, the unexpected happened, my father was laid off. He was a single father raising two kids and his savings quickly disappeared as he tried to pay for his mortgage, our lunch bills, clothes, and school supplies. We ended up moving to Colorado and lived in an apartment with 7 other people, my father reenlisted and we were lucky to have found a way out; but what about those

Paintings spread across the walls each one showing me as a different age, the latest one was of me laughing with a shadowy blob next to me, it looked liked the person had been blotted out.. Then I looked down the long hallway and saw doors, each one marked with a different date, the first one said January 14, 2010. Florida. Standing from the warm, comfortable couch I let my fingers trail across the end table that once stood in many houses but know stood in the lonely house to show people what their life was. I stopped at the door, resting my hand on the brass doorknob I pushed it open.

I live in America relatively shortly. My neighborhood is quiet. There are many Polish and Spanish-speaking people. These are mostly elderly people or families with children. Until recently, the place was peaceful and safe. Unfortunately, a few months ago the situation changed radically. When the city bought unfrequented located near the hotel with the intention of transforming it into a shelter for the homeless expired tranquility of our surroundings. It is obvious that these people also have to live somewhere but why just close to the parks and the complex of the bar. What can cause such a neighborhood? The streets are more and more often people of questionable purity, burying in the trash and often scattering garbage around. The homeless

When I walk from my apartment to the school, I always pass to the Tenderloin, San Francisco. It is a terrible area. I see many homeless people which seat and lay along the side walk, so I feel a little nervous. Moreover, I hate smell of urine, so I often stop to breathe when I go there.

Every family has their quirks and arguments but there was something different about mine before 2005. I honestly believe they hated each other while I was seemingly caught in the middle. I’m sure everyone knows about Hurricane Katrina and the devastation it brought to Louisiana that summer and I’m sure it will be one of those disasters that will show up in my child’s history book one day. I was only six years old that summer and I didn’t completely understand how threatening the storm really was to our safety and lifestyle; however, I do remember the chaos of 10 dysfunctional family members in one house—my house.

When I was 10 years old me and my family went on a road trip.We were going 90mph until Boom we hit a deer.Our car flipped and my parents flew out and hit there heads on a tree and died.Now I’m 17 and getting bullied at school.

People who frequently shuttle in and out of homelessness are considered episodically homeless.They are those who are depends on their monthly income check, disability checks or other cash assistance may have housing only for some day of each month.They are most likely to be single mothers with young children but unlike those in transitional homelessness, episodically homeless individuals often are chronically mental health, unemployed and experience medical issues and substance abuse

In summer of 2015, about the end of June, me and my friend Austen decided to go on a little walk while our parents were talking to people. It was a hot summer day in Goddard, Kansas.

My friends often describe me as a cynic and a pessimist. For the most part, they're right. Sentiment loses value when it permeates one's attitudes and behavior just as the value of a commodity decreases as it becomes ubiquitous, so as a rule I reserve expressing sentiment for rare occasions that I deem worthy. Fortunately, even the harshest cynics are surprised sometimes.

An older woman down the road from us, paid a surprise visit, I never knew her name, although she is considered wealthy. I heard my parents talking about her and her driver, she sits in the back seat of this big black beautiful car as it drove up the driveway. The driver opened the back passenger car door, as she made her way to the porch, I stood along the walkway lifting her hand she caressed my hair. Standing on our porch my mother did not invite her inside, the woman requested permission to bring me to church with her. I was allowed to go and remember my mother brushing my hair for church. This woman was slender and not very tall, arranged in a black two piece suit, the skirt was below her knees. Complementing her white short curly hair,

A couple weeks after school had just let out, I got a car. The talk of me getting a car had started in the summer going into 9th grade, and two years later it was finally happening. The reason it took so long was due to the fact that my parents did not want me to drive just any old, cheap car that clunked and roared down the road. At the time, it didn’t matter to me. I would have gladly taken anything just, so I could get around; present me, however, thanks them for making me wait, so I could have a decent car. I now drive a 2013 silver RAV 4, which was previously my mom’s. Having a car now meant one of two things. One, I could now drive where I wanted or needed to within reason. And two, I needed a job.

I've always known i wanted to run my own company but there is only one problem. I wasn't quite sure what i wanted to do and to be honest i wasn't sure how i would do it even when i ran across the idea that really caught my attention. i wasnt born into a rich family who could just give me the money to try something so i knew the first step was to get a job and save up some money, so thats what i did i got on at the local factory here in town and began work. over time gears were always turning in my head what would i do? It go to the point i once thought to myself "you know what maybe it just wasnt meant to be" but regardless i never gave up i kept thinking and thinking what about this and that but never could i get a good business plan which i felt could really work. The idea i had made it even more difficult, i wanted to have giving back and helping someone a part of my business.