Space Invaders.

When you share your accommodation with eight other families, you can never truly put your feet under the table. For starters, there isn't even a table you can use - except the one with four chairs around it on the bottom floor that is supposed to be sufficient for everybody in the building. But the one time we sat at that we were asked to take our food to our bedroom so that the owner could lock up the 'dining room' for the night.

It's hard not to get angry at complete strangers. They're *right there*, and so easy to take your frustration and resentment out on. Of course, I wouldn't confront somebody for leaving water on the bathroom floor or using too much toilet roll. I wouldn't run out of my room in a fit of rage because somebody slammed their door too loudly, as much as I'd love to. I especially wouldn't knock on the door of a single mother who doesn't speak English, to ask her why she has DARED leave the wall switch for the shower in the 'on' position. Instead, I quietly seethe to myself and mostly tweet about how irrationally angry I am about nothing in particular. Which is neither healthy nor productive.

I don't blame them for my situation. I pity each and every one of them because they're in the same situation that I am - most of them have been there for god knows how much longer than my family has. I'm just angry at them. Because they're there, and it reminds me that I am too. Because being homeless means that nothing in this world is your own, and that you have no control over anything in your life anymore. I desperately crave my space and my rules, so when somebody comes in and doesn't flush the toilet after them or speaks a bit too loudly on the phone, I hate them for being inconsiderate enough to remind me that they are in my universe. And I know what a spoilt brat that makes me sound. I just can't help feeling this rage.

I started this blog as a place to share exactly what being homeless feels like. I try to put a positive spin on things. I try and inject humour into everything I write, if only to make it worth reading so that people will want to keep reading. But if you want the truth of the matter, there is only one word to explain how being homeless really feels: angry. Angry at yourself, angry at 'the system' and angry at everybody around you - either for not understanding at all, or for understanding completely but only caring about themselves.

This is not a nice way to feel.