Senseless

Prologue

In the outside world I've always felt a bit unsure. Not filled with confidence. Always held my head low and doing the things that where expected from me. My father has always pressured me.

Son, sit straight and be friendly, make a good impression. Posture is everything. No one's gonna respected you if you don't seem like you do it yourself.

I've always had a bad posture. I don't eem confident. I seem small and unsure. I am hesitant and indesicive and I curse myself for being the exact opposite of what my father wanted his son to be. I can't make him proud. Everything I do, it's never enough.

I gave up my dream to pursue music and instead went to med school. I made something out of myself. And I was good at it, damn right I was. In the hospital I was like a god. I became immortal, untouchable and unfailable. It was the only place where I could walk with my head high, where I was respected and not overlooked. I felt at home, in the rush and stress and sadness. It fits with me well enough.

I would brag about how many lives I've already saved. I still remember everyone of them. I remember the crying relatives thanking me after I'd told them the good news. They where going to live. They got a new chance. And I sure hoped they wouldn't waste it.

Every Sunday I meet with my family for dinner. So I tell the whole family crazy stories about how I returned people from being dead. I'm practically doing the same as Jesus did and I am damn well allowed to brag about it because I am doing something good. The whole family always listens in awe. Everyone but dad. He'd rather hear about Chris' Stories.  Chris is my younger half sibling. We are only a few years apart. But he's already done so much in his life, dad says. He's already become a successful laywer. He's already married expecting a child. He's always better. And the worst part is that he doesn't even have to try. I've worked my ass off, it was hard for me to get somewhere. I've always had to stand on my own two feet. But dad always helped him out. The Golden boy of the family. The only one. No space for me. Just him.

I swallow hard as I make my way through a busy street, trying to get past couples holding hands and people laughing and talking and living. And somehow I get angry at them. How can they be so cheerful when I'm not? How dare they.

And I stop. In the middle of the busy walkway. A few people bump into me and give me a weird looked because I stopped so sudden but I don't care. I let them pass.

I have the best job in the world and a loving wife. I am the best of the best. But still, there's a emptyness inside me that can't seem to be fixed. And I look around, as if I would find it now, all of the sudden. But I see nothing. I just see people. Some in a hurry, some slowly walking by chatting with their friends. No one looks at me anymore. When you live in the city, you just learn to ignore everything and everyone and go about your day. Some wired schizophrenic on the subway? Ignore. Someone starting at you? Ignore. People fighting? Ignore. A car crash with dead people on the open road, a fire, a fight? Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Nobody seems to notice anyone but themselves these days. And it's frustrating. I feel lonely. In the most crowded place I am all alone. Not able to talk or touch anyone because nobody is really there. It's just me. And it always was and always will be.

And I continue to walk. Just walk. Just carry on.