Personal Narrative: What Makes A Homeless Man

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.

If there has been some obstacle or bump in the road in your academic or personal life, please explain the circumstances.

In my life, I have always felt that I was different from other people, that I was meant for a Greater purpose. During the summer of my freshman year, I got a indication of that. Something unexpected happened and it hit me like a freight truck. The mere thought of it made my knees weak,my heart race and my mind scramble. Growing up, I always had fears but the presence of this phenomenon would Make the other fears look like fantasies. For the first and only time, I faced homelessness.

It was a bright and sunny day in Downtown Iowa City. I limped my sore, broken down body between the alleys, craving the shade of buildings to get some time out of the beating hot sun. I can sense the wondering eyes of many people immediately lock into mine as I walk onto the busy sidewalk. I get paranoid and overwhelmed thinking of everything people could potentially be thinking about me. I have never been the type to care of what others think of me. That is only until I made my ways to becoming homeless. ¨You are just a druggie who can’t keep a job,¨ many have shouted at me. Funny thing is they don’t know is why I am even here in the first place. I ran away when I was 16. My Dad abused my Mom, two little sisters and Me. I’ve been

As I walked out of the airport into new territory, I could immediately feel the change in atmosphere. The air once chilled from morning dew, had turned into radiating heat from the cement and metal structures in the evening sun. As I looked out in my jeans and tee-shirt, I felt out of place. I was surrounded by the 8.55 million people who populate New York City. Each person with their own style and demeanour. As I walked down streets in search of the correct subway stop with my church group, everyone could tell that we were tourists. We were lugging our impossibly heavy suitcases through the streets, down the unforgiving stairs, and onto the crowded subway. After walking up and down what felt like hundreds of steps and changed subway trains

Coming from a smaller city like Denver, spending four days walking the uneven grounds of San Francisco was pretty overwhelming. The cultural dynamics are much different than from what I would consider “my city.” And unlike Denver the homeless is nothing like San Francisco. From my home in Highlands Ranch I see very little homeless people and by very little I mean I basically never see them. In the rare trip to Downtown Denver I am told to put my purse across my body and pull it to the front of my body “so it’s always in my sight.” In Denver, people think the homeless are our enemies but in the big city they are forgotten and left behind.

I want to be remembered as someone special. I want everyone to remember who I was. I want to be an actress, so I would like to have the legacy like most hollywood stars have, but not the infamous kind. I want to be remembered as someone who helped others. I don’t want to be the person who goes and spends their money just on fancy cars, or houses. I want to take what I have, and use it to help others.

with our bloods, and bundled it under the sink. Then in the dim light from the

It was one summer a man was eating lasagna in a restaurant that was closed it was a week from now his birthday. Let me tell you a little story about this man who is in this restaurant eating he is homeless, and he has been ever since he was 6 years old. He doesn’t know who he is but you’ll figure that out in the middle of this story. When he was born he was born to……well I can’t say because that’s what the story is about. His parents raised him very well it was one day when their child was 6 years old the parents kept getting threats and blackmails over the days, weeks, and months! Well they eventually stopped...

Last month an article popped up on my newsfeed declaring that homelessness is on the decline! Waking up to my coffee in my warm suburban home, I felt the waves of relief washing over me. “Ah, another thing I don’t have to worry about today,” my guilt alleviated as I adjusted my thermostat on that unseasonably cold March day. But in a society in which we consume news 140 characters at a time and scroll rapidly past the latest sensational headlines, pronouncements such as this should be worrisome.

Imagine this picture in your head. You're walking up and down the streets of New York, and everywhere you turn it seems like there’s another homeless person. They wear tattered clothing and have streaks of dirt across their face and their arms. Last year on spring break when I was thirteen years old, my mom,my grandparents, and I were on a vacation in New York City. A few days after looking around and touring New York I noticed something that I hadn’t really seen in any other city before. That was the amount of homeless people on the streets. Of course, I had seen homeless people before, but I had never seen this many in such a small area at one time. This was a really sad thing to witness,and it made me really appreciate the things I have in life.

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.

I hear them get closer and closer as the porch creaks every step to the door. My heart feels like its pounding through my chest, and sweat is pouring off my face as I sprint in a panic. I hear the key turning and the door opening just as I jump out the window.