When I was 6 years old, every Monday morning I would wake up early after seeing lights up in my parents room. He had promised me the night before that he is not leaving me and isn't going anywhere. But there he was, getting ready and packing his suitcase for another one week of work. Obviously a simple request and pleading hasn't worked on him so I decided to take few drastic measures. He saw me looking at him with my eyes half open when he was trying to slide through my bedroom to go downstairs. I screamed behind him asking him not to leave. He negotiated that he will be back as soon as possible and tried to hurry up. It almost felt like he had an idea what I was about to do next. "If you leave now, I'll pee on this staircase right now." And as I sat on the top of the stairways ready to pee, I also waited for him to make his next move. Obviously he was in a hurry and couldn't respond to a 6 year old's tantrum but when I heard the scooter leaving the house premise I knew I …show more content…
Nope. That did not happen. Even though I could go back to a human-less home after school, I could not survive being separated from my parents. I just couldn't. In fact when my brother went away to do his graduation I couldn't sleep for the first one week. Years passed by and now each time I say good bye to my parents, I feel a huge lump in my throat and all I want is to hug them and cry my heart out. I'm going to miss them because nobody is going to make me feel wanted and loved as they do. That is a special feeling that you come to realize when you turn into an adult. But you also know for a fact that they are not as strong as they used to be and it is now time for you to act your age. So what do you do? You put a happy face and try to say good bye in the airport, hoping you wouldn't break down. That's exactly what I did this time
Growing up with a father who blamed me for the death of his wife which of course broke through any happiness, care or love he felt for me his own son. My house was always filled with dark gloomy colors and we never really had guests over at all. My father was a mystery most people but in his job he had power over people because they were frightened by his just by his presence. It was a very rare pleasure filled with fright when we spoke and I can only think of one time where I got a hint of positive feeling from him. It was a dark, rainy gloomy day and the house never held a promise for the future so I was constantly bored and decided to read some old books from my father’s dusty library. There I sat with a book in hand picking up any knowledge that I possibly could and he walked in and said to me “Montressor, you impress me with act of trying to do something useful”, I replied to him with the only thing I could ever say to him, yes sir. I can only remember the constant hate I would receive from him and it made me think that I would never please
While in jail my dad cut hair when he was there. I would get my hair cut when I went to visit and sit in the visiting room with my dad. When he was lining up my head focusing on the line I could hear him breath deeply. As he is cutting my hair his hands are gently moving my head in better positions for him. For the only time I asked my dad why he was put in jail. He said "I was doing bad things and the bad things I did had consequences that allow me to not be in your life right now."
At 10, I never knew whether my father would be sober, reasonable, even pleasant - or drunk, argumentative and abusive. On one February day with four inches of snow on the ground and a freezing rain falling, I was walking home from my cousin's house in the early evening and saw my father lying on the soggy, snow-covered sidewalk. I didn't know what my father would do if I roused him, and I was afraid to find out. Perhaps, subconsciously, I hoped my father wouldn't waken at all. I continued on, did nothing, said nothing. This I will remember with guilt for the rest of my life.
I heard a blood-curdling scream and I jumped. I felt silent tears running down my heavily scarred face, but they weren’t out of sadness. Mostly. They were a mixture of pain and fear. I ran into the eerie, blood-splattered room and screamed as I felt cold fingers grab my neck. Before that night, I didn’t believe in the paranormal. Now I sure as heck do. I had been chased out of my house after a fight with my step-parents because I wasn’t doing well in school (I had dyslexia), and I had taken shelter in what seemed like a normal house. I realized what I had gotten into after the sun set. The doors locked without a sign of anyone going near them. A cold draft filled the room I was in. The house turned into a horrific scene, and I knew I would never get out alive. It was the Asylum. There’s a rumor in our town, a rumor that started when someone made the observation that everyone fit in. No one was considered strange, homeless, an outsider. That doesn’t seem possible, you think. In my town, there are tons of people with no homes, or people that don’t belong, you think. Well, think again. Those homeless people? Think about how many there are. They fit in with each other. Those people that don’t belong? Once again, they fit in with each other. But then, you
Homelessness can happen to anyone unexpectedly. Many poor people are at the risk of homelessness. The cost of living and trying to find affordable housing can be very difficult. Many who are homeless are in poverty, have a mental illness, or addictions. Homelessness happens from personal, as well as structural factors. Many aren’t able to make enough for rent, as well as, utilities, food, and other expenses each month. More than 6 million Americans pay more than half of their income towards rent (Reamer, 1989). The trend is once someone becomes homeless, it is likely they will be homeless repeatedly. To end homelessness, affordable housing will have to be created because it is peoples largest single expenditure (Anderson, 2013).
However, my father did leave my mother and me when I was a toddler before I could actually remember him. He would call to talk to me a lot throughout the years to let me know that he loved me and he would also visit me sometimes. However, after he left, my mother found another man and gave birth to my three little sisters. I then became a big sister with responsibilities for more than just myself. Having little sisters taught me how to share and play nicely. That experience prepped me for my school years where I would have to get along with a new set of people.
The one instance that really sticks out to me was a few years ago. It was an early winter day, and I was up early for some odd reason. It was just like any other day, I was eating a granola bar and watching the morning news. I was just sitting there on the couch, and then my mom walked in. I noticed that she was not quite herself as soon as she walked into the room. She was walking kind of funny and slurring her speech. I asked her if she was okay, and of course she said “yes, I am fine.” I continued to eat my granola bar and ponder the situation. She was still in the kitchen searching for something to eat, but she left with nothing. She returned back to her bed. I knew something was obviously wrong, but I didn’t know what to do. My mom hated when I asked her about her blood sugar, but I decided to ask anyway. I walked into
Annotated Bibliography: “Homelessness and the selfish society”. “Homelessness, Citizenship, and Identity : The Uncanniness of Late Modernity” Arnold, Kathleen R. 2004 Kathleen’s book brings up many detailed facts about how homelessness is a never-ending situation due to mental illness, poverty, social structure and political parties. She discusses how many of society groups illegal immigrants, mentally ill, jobless and many other categories under the homeless category.
Many of them succeeded and found the better future they were looking for. Many others found hardship and experienced the destruction of their hopes and dreams. All of them were transformed. Packing up and leaving one's home is one of the hardest things a person can experience. Unfortunately, there are many instances when people are forced to do so.
When I was little, me and my family were sitting in the living room and watching T.V. and the next thing we hear is the doorbell. When my mom opened the door our family friend Mary, told my mom that she had dropped her keys in the dumpster and needed me and my
Imagine eating Christmas dinner underneath a bridge on the cold dirt because you and your family were evicted from your home. Just trying to find a single meal is what thousands of people, who live on the street, go through each day. They have been kicked out of their houses and apartments because they can't afford rent due to their low paying jobs.
I would like to start by saying how I see it and define it in my own words. It is the state where an individual doesn’t have a normal house and are not financially stable in life. It is the situation where you have to look after yourself or another person that is also homeless. You won’t be able to find the proper housing like a normal and secured place to live. All day and all night, you will be trying to sustain yourself from everyday challenges, like looking for food to eat, a place to live, and proper clothing.
I am just a poor boy that lives on the street. My mother has just got the axe from her boss. She got fired because she started to have her drinking habits again. I would get abused by broken beer or wine glasses, slugged in the face, arms, and my skinny bone legs. My father would not do anything because he was in Heaven watching over me. He passed away when I was six years old. He was my not caped superhero. I wish he was still walking me to school everyday until November, 12 2002.
Even though I clearly remember all the sanity me and my little family went through. I never wanted them to know their mother just up and disappear on them. I took a deep breath and was about ready to tell them the whole truth. They already knew too much. But right before I could speak, I became suddenly unspoken-less. They gave me this look, not a look of sadness, more like a look of pride and honor. They both huddle close to me and gave me a hug. The words that came from their mouths next. I 'll never forget
One beautiful day that summer, I was playing outside with my friends when my mom called for me to come home. I did not want to abandon my guard post at the neighbor's tree house so I decided to disregard her order. I figured that my parents would understand my delima and wouldn't mind if I stayed out for another two or three hours. Unfortunately, they had neglected to inform me that my grandparents had driven in from North Carolina, and we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner. When I finally returned, my father was furious. I had kept them from going to dinner, and he was simply not happy with me. "Go up to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs until I talk to you."