They think that I only have myself to blame, those who look upon me from afar. They, who are safe in the knowledge that their lives are sorted. They gaze upon me. They see only what they want to see.

Once, in the glory days. I was like them. From high on my pedestal, I judged, I commented, I highlighted the shortcomings of others. I was sure I knew it all.

Oh, how times change. Here I am, eking out my existence on the periphery. This underpass is my home, for tonight at least. Tomorrow, I move on, as always. Tomorrow, I sit with my hand out, waiting for coins to be tossed in my direction, as always.

I move on, but I don’t move far. I circle the town, spending my days in the streets where my former friends still shop and eat and drink. They see me. I am the only person static in a frenetic, non-stop world. They see me. They resent me. I am the reminder that life can turn on you in an instant.

I am the conscience they would rather not have.

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Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. I don’t know why this picture of cosy winter socks took me down this road. Sometimes, the muse is slant-eyed…

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