Legs of strangers passed me in waves as I sat on the hard, damp sidewalk, my back pressed up against the wall of a 7-11 corner store. The amount of people vacating the buildings around me indicated that it was around noon. Everyone was on their way to lunch, their biggest problem being whether or not they’re going to eat Subway or Nando’s. Meanwhile, I’m sat here having not eaten anything but a bag of chips and a 99 cent chocolate bar in days.
A loud growl erupted from my stomach and caused my insides quake. I held my hand to my boney figure as if to comfort myself, and waited for the gurgling to stop. People passed me without a second glance, too busy with their lives to pay attention to someone like me. I understood, these people pass the homeless everyday and they have things to do, and they don’t want to waste their lunch caring for someone who they don’t even know. …show more content…
To them, I am invisible. My cardboard sign was sitting next to me. It reads “homeless and hungry, anything helps.” The look of desperation across my face was partially rehearsed, hoping to gain the sympathy of strangers in order to up my chances of getting charity. A woman slowed as she walked passed me. staring down at my long matted hair and tattered clothing with a look of distaste spread across her features, she continued to walk past me. My patience was wearing thin and my understanding of these middle class, blue collar workers was slowly turning into frustration. I wanted to call them selfish, but other people are struggling too, I tried to remind
A loud growl erupted from my stomach and caused my insides quake. I held my hand to my boney figure as if to comfort myself, and waited for the gurgling to stop. People passed me without a second glance, too busy with their lives to pay attention to someone like me. I understood, these people pass the homeless everyday and they have things to do, and they don’t want to waste their lunch caring for someone who they don’t even know. …show more content…
To them, I am invisible. My cardboard sign was sitting next to me. It reads “homeless and hungry, anything helps.” The look of desperation across my face was partially rehearsed, hoping to gain the sympathy of strangers in order to up my chances of getting charity. A woman slowed as she walked passed me. staring down at my long matted hair and tattered clothing with a look of distaste spread across her features, she continued to walk past me. My patience was wearing thin and my understanding of these middle class, blue collar workers was slowly turning into frustration. I wanted to call them selfish, but other people are struggling too, I tried to remind