How I Went From Being Homeless To A Millionaire



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When I was homeless, I sort of walked around the city instead of staying in one spot too long. I collected cans and bottles that I could get a little money for, and sometimes I got lucky enough to find something sharp, so I could cut my shaggy hair. On the day it all began, I was walking at night to the spot where I usually slept, but there were a couple teenagers messing around there. They were painting stuff on the wall. I knew I looked pretty scary, and they didn’t know I was only a few years older than them, so I started running full speed at them and waving my arms like crazy, shouting incoherencies.

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I laughed when I saw their terrified faces as they ran off, but noticed they left their paint cans behind. It was spray paint. On my wall was terrible graffiti. And I mean terrible because it looked like a two year old had done it. I wasn’t really, tired that night, so I thought I might as well make use of my new spray paint. I started painting over the terrible graffiti, and realised I was actually not bad at it. It looked much better than the teenagers’ thing. I painted and painted with only a flickering lamp post illuminating the wall, until I couldn’t stop yawning. I shoved the spray cans in my bag and layed down on the least dirty part of the floor to sleep.

It became a habit of mine to paint. After a few days, I had covered the entire wall of the alley where I slept in, with paint. It was a huge mural, painted to look like a portal to paradise. I was walking around the day after I finished it when I saw some people taking pictures of it, and taking pictures of themselves in front of it. I guess they like it, I thought. This went on for some time, people apparently liking my art. I like making people happy, and making our city look better, so I started painting in other places, but anonymously of course . I filled the city with as many of my murals as I could, and people seemed to love it. Some days I couldn’t paint because my cans were empty, but I scavenged for more and kept painting. One night I found a bunch of perfectly good cans under a great wall. It was even white, which made the colors pop more. I started painting, and when I was about halfway done, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Damn, I thought, the police caught me.
I turned around and saw a man, he looked like he was in his 20’s like me. He didn’t look homeless though, unlike me.
“Hey, I’m Reggie” He said. I shook his hand and said “I’m Kai”. He pointed at the spray cans and said “I see you liked my spray paint”. Ah, so they were his. I started apologising for using them,

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