There is only One Stop for me.

A spot in a place that I call home. I’ve been sat here now for 2 years. If this was Hollywood the print would be perfectly ingrained on the floor. In this place however there is no glory. No glitz. No glamour to my tale. I am homeless. I live off the map. I have no fixed abode. I just am.

Day by day I see the world go by. A world too busy too see my plight. Too busy with their own world to notice the bearded man looking up at them. You learn to deal with the looks away. The stares. The crossing of the road as they approach. There is only so much rejection one can take before taking the rocky yet seemingly inevitable path that we all are living on in Withington.

So I live my own adventures. I live each day as it is the last. Making sure I can do as much as I can to wipe away the harsh pain of reality. The cycle that is slowly destroying me is my only way of existence. The solace of a couple of students offering me a hot meal will keep me going for a few hours. What then ? The drink makes the pain go away. The drink keeps it in context. Am I a lesser person than you for being where I am today?

Don’t think you are immune to my fate. Think of that the next time you pass the bearded man sitting on the street begging for recognition.