Saturday Sept 11 2021
1:42AM
There used to be a man that was born void of a personality. He did not exist mentally but only in the physical. As he grew older, he realized that wasn’t wholly true. Growing into his young adulthood, he noticed that he was turning little by little into every person he ever met. His mind had been a blank canvas, and every person he met was like a line of colour on a white background. He aimed to be complete. He concluded that if only he could meet every person on Earth, or at least as humanly possible, then he can become who he was meant to be. And so around the world he went. Travelling across continents, to countries very few would traverse, to villages in the most remotest of places. He would make conversations at coffee shops, bus stops, shelters, hotel lobbies. In order to just get a glimpse of their personality and what made them tick, and become one step closer to being whole. The conversations felt like a drug, he was in some ways addicted to diving deep into peoples psyches, addicted to the rush that he got when someone revealed their inner self and showed a hint of personality. A new face, a new voice, a new mind. He pondered what would it take for him to be whole. Until the day actually came, when his figurative cup was filled to the rim, and in that moment he knew it was all done in vain. For he did not feel what he expected to feel, there was a continuous feeling of contempt. He wondered what went wrong, he felt that he had met every type of person there was to meet, the shallow ambitious ones, the humble beings that make the world turn, the people with big hearts and wide smiles, the sad introspective people that stare at the stars. He thought about his own beginnings, where there was an unfillable void, and in that rumination he realized, that by becoming everyone, he had once again became nothing. A nobody. And accepted right then and there, that he’d rather be a nobody, than just merely a portion of somebody ..
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