Personal Narrative-Homeless?

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

“Hey, Athena,” Peter calls my name from across the small store, “man the cash register, I need to pee.”

Today, if we see a multitude of skin on the road settled, that there is nothing strange. In fact, according to The State of Homelessness in America 2013, 610,042 people were experiencing homelessness; as the result, we can see a significant number through that report. Due to that reason, many charities have been established to be able to help the homelessness. According to me, one of the charities that I appreciate is Thomas House which is an Orange County non-profit organization for homeless because it provide a safe, supportive environment and the resources necessary for homeless families with children while empowering them to become independent and self-sufficient.

Miranda C. Watkins usually I send a private email to those who are leaving the Homeless Program... in my 19 years of working here, truly I find joy in getting to know and work with you. We built a trust that I pray will last for years to come and hopefully out paths will one day cross again...

As a kid I had always lived in well diversified areas. I didn't care who you were or what you looked like, I was raised to treat everyone the same. I wasn't personally exposed to the idea of inequality until I was in middle school. I had always imagined that everyone just had jobs and lived their daily lives. I didn't quite grasp the extent of the idea that people can die, be homeless, be criminals, or racists. I also didn't grasp how great the people of our society can be. That was until my parents told me about the first times they had in America coming from Mexico. I don't remember what I said or did to provoke these stories, but they were surely eye opening.

Lacey Cash glanced at the lime green Timex watch on her left hand as she pushed the silver key into the overused Kevo Bluetooth electronic deadbolt on 19 First Avenue Mont Lamberte. It was 3:00 p.m. and she was scheduled to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Lavish at 5:00 p.m. Lacey had managed to secure the two hours she needed to complete the house inspection before the Lavish couple arrived with the real estate attorneys. She had spent two hours yesterday going over all their opinions and they had made an offer, which was accepted. The Lavish were a nice young couple. They were expecting twins and they were due in a couple of weeks. Needless to say, they were anxious to move into their own home before the new arrivals.

She looked at me, a serious expression on her face and something feral in her eyes.

I don't know a lot about my father's past but I know it wasn't very pleasant. I know he was homeless at some point in his life which I thought was brave. So, when I had the opportunity to take a job at the University of Montana in the Corner Store, I did. I needed to make an income so I my friend and I could get a place down there. The only bump in the road was that I had no place to live if I went to Missoula. So, I ended up becoming homeless, like my dad, for a whole two nights. Impressive, I know. I was extremely excited by the idea when it first popped in my head because it was a new adventure. I figured it wouldn't be so hard and that I could handle it.

Saturday Morning, I’m in my house and I’ve already spent my last ten cents on a newspaper, just to find myself a job. My house is three by three metres, has a broken bed, a small fan but you've gotta kick it a few times before it works. And there used to be a really old CRT TV until some hood rat stole it from us. My house is made up of damaged cobble bricks and the wood is from trees that I cut down over the years. I live in a derelict town called Henderson, and its pretty much a slum, just like in third world countries. There are impoverished people living here, trying to make an honest living and then theres the troublemaking underworld who make their lives by ruining others. They run the drugs to make a quick buck. Why am I part of this

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

In 2009 I became homeless. I had a choice at the time, to continue living in a home where one of the roommates was a drug dealer or move out. I chose to move out. I ended up in a shelter in Monroe, Washington.

My view on homeless people came in many different ways they either got laid off by their job, wasted their life with drugs, or some gave up when they did not receive another job. I also viewed them as lying people using others just to get money from them then getting in their car and driving off. Viewing them afterwards was definitely an eye opener I learned that a lot of people have different stories. Not everybody did the same or went through the same thing to become homeless. Most people that are homeless didn’t have a choice because of them being laid off by their bosses and technology just replacing their jobs creating less opportunities for themselves and other people. Also that many of them lost their families so they have nobody to

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.

For the past eight years of my life my family has been homeless. At least that is what my mother likes to say. We have a roof over our heads, but it is not ours. Eight years ago my mother was laid off from her job and since then we have lived with a family friend who is gracious enough to let us share his house that had an address close enough to our school. Not long after we moved, my father was laid off from his job as well and they have both been unemployed until last year. Unfortunately, it is a small house with only two bedrooms. Our friend, John, occupies one room while my parents occupy the other. This leaves the living room for my brother and I to share as our room. Despite the troubles that come along with sharing such a small space,

It was a cold October evening and he ran wildly around the arena. Everyone knew it was going to be their last time with him. As he whizzed around the arena he would always stay on the rail as if someone was riding him. Otis was a barn horse who had developed a disease which caused him to go blind in both of his eyes. The barn thought it was in Otis’s best interests that he be put down.