With numb hands, and sluggish legs, I walked towards the alleyway. Was it December? Or maybe it was January? I had long lost my perception of time – something that was no longer needed after I had adopted my new lifestyle. My life was experienced by the day, each one being another misadventure, another struggle. The people I met used to matter beyond my daily excursions; however they quickly disappeared into memory. Food and material wealth was something that mattered – its effects lingered beyond when it was first obtained. Acquaintances could be forgotten easily, bread in the stomach could not. Substance and wealth were of the material world, they provided the means of power. However, I had other things on my mind. After stepping into the alley, I slowly eased myself by the wall, and sat down. A chilly breeze intruded through my thin hood and nipped at my face. I paid no heed to it, as the winter’s touch was gentle compared to the winds of the previous day. The dark alleyway was dank, with a pungent odor emanating the numerous trashcans. Numerous brick layered buildings lined the side, each with a small stairway leading to forgotten doors. From the deepest corners, rats scurried about. Though it was no sanctuary, it provided a place to rest, and only that. Keeping that in mind, I closed my eyes, ready to repeat my routine once I awoke.
The shattering of glass interrupted what rest I could have gained. A squat, well-fed gentleman stood in the back entrance of the building in front of me, his cheeks flushed and eyes irate. His neck seemed to fuse with his chin, with his unshaven stubble providing the only definition to his face. He wore smock that covered his relatively simple attire, however even that failed to hid his well rounded gut. His arms resembled giant sausages, with fatty mass sloped onto the bones – his fingers round and stumpy. His head, frazzled and balding, bounced up and down as he spat his words toward me.
“Get out of here you useless scum! Go find a job, even the lowest of the low like you can be put to work in the factories as workers or slaves in the mines! Or better yet, go immigrate to that hellhole of a country Sukhoivakia! Perhaps with the subhuman apes, you shall find solace from your suffering!”
Another bottle was thrown at me, it too shattered by the wall behind me. I scrambled to my feet, and ran from the curses of the man. I clawed through my ragged sleeves as I escaped. Even after the third bottle hit me, I still ran. His incessant yelling soon became distant, and eventually the only things I was running away with were my own footfalls. I passed warmly lit houses, with lively fireplaces and comfortable families as I ran. Luxurious, and comfortable, those houses represented something that society was supposed to work for. Even the middle and lower classes had shelter that they could feel secure in. All it took was completely selfish ambition and the ability to please others through material gain. Despite those relatively simple requirements, I still found myself sleeping in parks and working, not to pay for the education I could have finished, but for the simple nourishment of bread and butter. Society said that there was a place for me – a place for everyone no matter economic, religious, or social background – however even that is false. In a system that seems work for everyone, I am left behind, and even compared to lowly Sukhoivakians.
After arriving into a familiar park, and slowed down and bent down. I caught my breath by an old lamppost, all while its bulb sputtered incessantly. It was not the first time that I had been chased out. Whether it was from alleyways, backyards, or parks, each person drove me out. In their eyes, I embodied everything that was wrong with our society. Even during times of peace I was unable to find a steady job, or even manage to support myself. I could have sold myself into bondage, however I abhorred that idea. Perhaps if I were old or disabled, I would have garnered some sympathy. Yet the image of seeing a still relatively youthful man on the streets and not contributing to society was disgusting, and at times, shameful. From all of this, I had to question myself – why do I choose to live this way if it’s against the norms? Do I lack compassion for myself? For others? Or maybe it was simply motivation.
No, it was not that. Mankind is the one that wronged me, and in turn, I told myself to reject it. Where I attempted to fall into their cog work, they rejected my ideas, my effort, and my struggle. Even through the numerous wars with Sukhoivakia, I would stand strong with my country. Even now I still stood strong. Society is the one that has done wrong to me – it’s their entire fault. They told me that I was working for the glory of our nation, our fatherland. However, I realized that my efforts did not go to my people, but to the pigs that control the strings from the background, from the crooked politician to the baker down the street, all conspire against people like me! In this world of material desire, there is no room for compassion, no room to cast a hand for their fellow man!
I kicked the pole in frustration. Here I had all of these ideas, all of these beliefs yet… I was not completely sure if they were right. I squatted by the base of the lamppost. Even with the majority of the people living their carefree lives, why must I be the one to be left to rot? It was then that I realized that this is something that I should not ponder about. I should save it for a later time, a time when I have food in my stomach and a place to keep warm.
I looked around the park for any suitable places to sleep. Soft flakes drifted down from the sky as the lights from every house slowly went out. The park was deserted, with no one to disturb the peaceful environment. I headed towards a small play structure, its wooden frame covered in snow. The grain possessed many carved promises from times of old, yet it still stood strong against the numerous children that climbed over it. It was a nostalgic feeling to sleep under it, back when the peace first started. I swept a small portion of the underlying ground before crawling under the wooden structure and resting myself against a side. Perhaps my routine would continue… indefinitely. Tomorrow would simply be another day; another day in a world that had long forgotten emotion and human dependency.
From here, I shall see where I go onto. MC seems very melodramatic, so I will have to correct his voice later.
