Homeless

Time. 16:45. I saw him for the first time. It was December. Ice cold. And there he lay outside the GAP store, under the display window. On Regents Street. He was curled up under a dirty white fur coat. It was wrapped around him, not quite covering him fully. He wore a navy blue hoodie which partially covered his face. His jeans torn, grubby trainers peeking out, rested on the cold pavement. A small bag was clutched to his chest.

As I got closer, I saw his face in full view. He looked almost like a ghost, his skin pale, his eyes tired. A scar on his right cheek. A knife? He seemed to be sleeping, or was he dead? No. His mouth opened slightly and his chest rose. It felt like I could hear him breathing. I stopped abruptly. He looked almost my age, or maybe a bit older. Pain built up inside me. I didn't know this homeless person, but I wanted to know his story. I wanted to reach out and help him. I looked around. No one seemed to care, no one gave him one look. Everyone walked by smiling, laughing, ignoring.

My sister grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. We were getting late. We had to rush home. I pointed out the homeless person to her. She looked at me and laughed.
"They're all over London" she said. I knew that. I've seen loads of homeless people, scattered all over London. But the ones I had seen, they always tended to be old. This one. I felt I had some sort of connection. Maybe our age. Maybe because he shouldn't be sleeping rough. He should be at home. With his family or friends. She saw my face, my concern."What are you going to do? Tell me? Help him? You don't even know who he is! He could be a criminal for all you know! He could have done so many bad things! That's why he's in such a bad place." She left me speechless. Dry throat, I stuttered. I followed her to the traffic lights where she stood; her back to me. I looked back. I wanted to remember his face. I stared hard, remembering every feature of his face, what he wore and where he was. I would come back here again.

Discussing the issue of homeless youth through social network, I received a range of different views. It made me question humanity at one point when someone said to me "They're a lot of homeless people, most of them are liars and thieves"
I guess if everyone thought in the way this person did, there would be no way in which help would be given to those who needed it the most. Our society would be corrupt.

I forgot about going back. A few weeks later I was back on Regents Street outside the GAP store. A shopping trip. I suddenly remembered. The memory of the event, his face. I remembered it all. But, he was gone. No sign of him. I looked around helplessly. I walked down Regents Street, Oxford Street in pursuit of this homeless person. I felt mad. What would I ever do if I saw him again? I was powerless. I was just as helpless and useless as a baby. Tired, hungry and upset, I grabbed the bus and returned home. I made a promise that day, that if I ever made it in this world in some way or another. If I ever got given the position of power. One of the first things I would do is help the homeless youth, who are disregarded and seen as "bad people" in a "bad place" because of the actions they've committed.

Until then, I can only do what is in my power. To raise awareness.