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I’m sat here waiting to be evicted from my home.

I can’t seem to get past the deep resentment and all consuming fury that (a) I did nothing wrong. I was a victim yet I’M losing my home, and (b) The police had the NERVE to contact my landlord without my permission and make out I had the place packed to the rafters with guests who are all known criminals, that I am involved in criminal activity taking place on the premises, and heavens knows what else.

At the court hearing the other week I ended up sat in a room with my solicitor and probation spilling the whole shitty story. For the first time, I wasn’t treated like some scummy criminal. I wasn’t looked down at, or doubted, or made to feel like it was MY fault and I didn’t do enough to stop the situation.

I ended up bawling my eyes out. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Which is kind of what I’m doing right now. Crying my eyes out. That’s all I seem to do lately- cry.

So today is a new chapter. I’m losing my home I’m out on the streets. I’m officially one of those people I was bought up NEVER to become;

A homeless junkie criminal.


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