Memoir of a Loner

Loner Entry #8 — Homeless

Date: 23 September 2025
Location: Lewisham, southeast London

Entry:
After finishing late at the Goldsmiths Student Union Bar, I walked home around 3:30 a.m. The streets were extremely quiet, broken only by the occasional car and the fading of someone's voice.

A homeless woman approached me. Her distress was immediately visible. She had an infected mouth, likely from drug use, and limped, evidence of previous physical harm. Hesitant, I removed my earphones, aware I had little to offer. A pang of guilt washed over me — I’ve been insulated from struggles like this for most of my life.

Unexpectedly, she first offered her food from a plastic bag. I declined, trying to engage as best I could while acknowledging my limited ability to help. The encounter left me feeling a heavy sense of helplessness as I thought about the stark reality of London.

Her desperation was unlike anything I had experienced in Newcastle. She showed me needle scars and explained that survival on the streets often meant enduring abuse. Her voice cracked as she gasped, “They force things down my throat. Please help. No one cares about me. I’m going to end it all now.”

Quote / Overheard:
“They force things down my throat. Please help. No one cares about me. I’m going to end it all now.”