Guy gets kicked out. Things happen. NO PLOT FOR YOU
Let me tell you a real story. All you people seem to hear bullshit Hollywood fairytales. Sit tight and listen.
I got thrown out of my house early into my life. 18, exactly. I had nothing. No money, no qualifications, and my parents disowned me completely. Called me dirt. Abused me. Hell, if I was still there I’d probably be thinking of suicide. But I digress.
I left with nothing but the clothes on my back. This being a band shirt for Iron Maiden that I never wore, my average looking coat, denim jeans, and my pretty normal looking trainers. I looked like a fucking idiot. Considering all I ever did was lurk in my bedroom all day doing nothing but tampering with my computer, I had a little bit of experience with I.T. Well, by a little I mean that I know more than those tech support junkies. Now I don’t even have my computer. I said goodbye to internet for the time being.
So I started walking away from the seemingly ominous aura emanating from my parents house and made my way to the terrifying prospect of being a tramp, kicking the pebbles on my way.
Hull. East Yorkshire. Fairly big city I guess. Riddled with crime and some of the worst people you’ll ever meet. The only thing that could top it is the piss-stained, vermin-ridden prisons used to hold the most batshit insane criminals you could find. I couldn’t stomach the thought of people who are worse than the populace of Hull. Call me a cynic, go ahead, come to Hull and meet all the amazing locals, with an average I.Q. of 30 and no real sense of social or life skills. And whilst you’re there, think of all the amazing prospects of living homeless here.
Anyways, whilst walking I began thinking to myself. Am I going to die? Will I resort to begging? Will my parents re-integrate me back into the family? How will I ever make a living? Questions circulating in my mind, disputing with myself until I stumble upon a shack of sorts. Abandoned, almost sheet metal, holes in the roof, door. The door was my problem, I needed to kick it down. “Well, here goes” I said to myself. First kick, I feel the shock up my leg, this being amplified by the freezing September air. It hurt like a bitch. It had to be done, if I didn’t get into here, I’d most likely die.
Half an hour and multiple kicks later, the door shatters into multiple pieces, and as it did I heard dogs barking, reacting directly to the loud noise. Fucking dogs. I was always a cat person myself. I inspect the inside of what I’d call my home. Nothing much really. A broom, a bed frame that’s split into multiple sharp fragments and a bucket. Not exactly home sweet home, but nonetheless, it provided me with shelter. I curled up on the hard, blighted floor and curled up. It took me a while to sleep as my leg was killing me, it was fucking freezing, and my mind was still racing with questions. In regard to begging, that was out of the fucking question. The internet taught me that I should just despise people; they would never help me with anything. I was completely alone at that point, torn apart at my decline in life, it bared too much upon me. I started sobbing, in the foetal position, in the corner of an abandoned shack. Yeah, that was the worst moment of my life so far. I eventually became dizzy and fell into a deep sleep, within the corner of my new abode, the purple sun shining through the hole where the door use to be and the holes within the ceiling, if you would call it that. Thanks, Mother and Father, you got your wish. I was a shitstain on your reputation. I then soon became just another shitstain on the society. It sickens me to look back on myself now, how I could even live, nevermind sleep, like that.