It wasn't the first thing to have gone wrong in my life but oh, it would definitely not be the last. However if you'd asked me that morning if by 8 o'clock the following evening I would find myself homeless I wouldn't have believed it. I don't think I ever would have seen what came was coming before hand, maybe I'd just been too nervous to really think about it, yet despite that, I'd felt the need to pack first. Just in case, even though I had no real speculation that I would need to; it had been more of a procrastination tool.
However it was a good thing I had done so because my parents didn't exactly give me much time to 'get the hell out' after I came out to them. Looking back I realised ever deciding to admit I was gay was probably a bad call, but somehow it had evaded my knowledge for 18 years that they were all impossibly homophobic, maybe I just never paid enough attention. Either way, my father had made it incredibly clear that suddenly I could no longer call those people my family, and could no longer call this house home; there was disowned, then there was me. It felt like a whole new level of betrayal. I'd been kicked out to the streets, abruptly alone in this cruel world, the only things I had were everything I could fit in my bag; a few sets of clothes, a rain jacket, a box of cereal bars, 2 bottles of water, my crappy cell phone, one book and about a thousand pounds I'd managed to save up over the years from various birthdays. Now they were my only worldly possessions.
As soon as I was kicked outside into the pouring rain I began preparing myself for the worst, not sure what would happen now exactly, but not seeing how it could be anything good. It was pitch black outside, raining, my hair was soaked already even as I'd pulled my raincoat on, I was cold and I had no where to go. No friends, no relatives close by, no-one who could take me in, I'd reached a brand new level of feeling alone and it felt rather helpless. The only thing I knew once I'd stepped out of the house I'd lived in for 18 years was I had to get out of Wokingham, my home town, I simply couldn't bare to stay here when suddenly all it represented was betrayal. I had no home now, so couldn't have a home town. That idea hurt. Silently I began formulating my plans as I walked blindly through the rain, at some point the rain on my cheeks becoming salty.
I got the first bus out, not caring where it went as long as it wasn't here. I was cold, I was wet, I was miserable, lost, alone, it was terrible. No one stopped to help, no one asked how I was. No one seemed to care that a soaking wet teenage boy was sitting on the bus with them sobbing. It was like they too had outcast me and I realised that was all I was now, an outcast. For the first ten minutes of the ride I tried to plan what my life would be from now on, but honestly, I could have no idea. I would find myself in a new and strange city, have to find a job, hopefully earn enough money to buy enough food to live on, but where I was going to live, I had no idea. Maybe there'd be some sort of homeless shelter I could go to because that's what I was now, homeless. Even then, could I even live? It would be more like just survive. That's what happened when your future was ripped from you.
But the more I tried not to think about how crappy a turn my life had taken the more depressed I became. It was true; it would be a hard enough struggle now just to survive, let alone anything else I'd ever wanted to do in my life. I had nothing now, just myself, any dreams of going to university, having a successful career, meeting the man of my dreams, all of that had been ripped cruelly from my reach and I quickly lost all hope trying to see how any of it might still be possible. It just wasn't.
Soon I couldn't bare to think about it all and under the gentle hum of the bus' engine and drone of wheels across the motorway I soon silently cried myself to sleep leaning against the window. Tear filled eyes slipped shut where they'd been staring out into the black abyss of the night that so perfectly represented my future.
By the time I regained consciousness the bus was pulling into a station and I was exhausted, despite the sleep. Far past caring about anything as trivial as sleep deprivation I got off, trudging slowly out into the rain again once I'd left the bus shelter, but only making it 100 meters down the street before I really realised I couldn't possibly have any less of an idea where I was going. I was in that strange new city that I didn't know, had never been to before, I didn't even know what city it was, I was wet and cold and had no where to stay the night. Abandoned, in every sense of that word.
Completely numb, frozen at this realisation for a moment, I just stood in the rain, vaguely wondering how wet my bag must be getting before turning around and walking even slower back towards the bus shelter, fresh tears making their way down my cheeks in the process. The best shot I had, I figured, was to find a quiet corner in the bus terminal and sit there till morning, then just hope that in the daylight I'd be able to see an explanation for all of this and what I was supposed to do.
Shivering violently I found my corner, curling up, hidden away from the world, and despite the cold, the damp, the torturing thoughts swirling around in my head, I soon fell asleep, half hoping I'd never wake up again.
To my disappointment in the early hours of the morning I did wake up, still cold, and still a little damp, and I opened my eyes to the harsh sight of small groups of people, the beginnings of rush hour, walking past giving me uncomfortable gazes, their pace quickening as they passed me. Immediately feeling depressed at this less than pleasant welcome back to the land on consciousness, I had no choice but to get up and move but stiff from sleeping in such a tight position I ached all over as I did. The headache made things no better.
Overnight the rain had cleared and now, around what I estimated to be about 7 o'clock, the sun was beginning to rise over what promised to be a clear day. As I moved quickly out of the station and away from the crowds this prospect did absolutely nothing to change my mood. The only upside I had was that I finally took notice of the station name and could appreciate the fact I'd found my way to Manchester, a large enough city that no one would ever find me and maybe I'd stay lost forever. But this was a small silver lining in the context of it all, so sighing, feeling my eyes threatening to shed tears once more, I trudged on, becoming more so depressed by that fact I realised quite early on: that I could no longer afford to live, it was just operation survive.
Common sense and a bit of logical thought and planning should be all it took in order to do so, and I did try and let this thought process consume me, but it was hard to do so when every few moments this task only served to remind me of why it was necessary in the first place. I thought of the basic needs a person would have. I knew I'd have to get a job, that much was obvious, where and what couldn't really matter too much, but ideally it would be nice to be stationed near a public toilet with a shower, really ideally one that you didn't have to pay to use, so at least I would be showing up for work looking vaguely presentable. I knew the faster I could find a job the better, because the longer I left it I figured the more likely it would be harder to find one because the more and more like a kid on the streets I'd appear. Hence the reason for want of a shower. As for food, I figured stationing myself near the university would work nicely as they often had a small shop associated that sold the basics of everything, and hopefully at a slightly lower than regular price to cater for student living. Student living would probably be a luxury compared to what I was faced with. From there it would be a game of finding a way to survive on the streets until I'd saved up enough money to rent a place, and then slowly begin to rebuild a life for myself. Sounded like fun.
The job hunt would start today, I knew it had to, but first things first I also knew I needed food. Figuring I'd save the cereal bars in my bag for true emergencies, I walked away from the station into the already busy streets of the centre of Manchester, searching for the cheapest possible way to get something to eat, and preparing myself for what I knew was not going to be a fun rest of my life in the slightest.