I am disappointed with the world around me.

I am disappointed by the lack of honesty.

Disillusioned with the Gods I am given to believe.

I wonder what keeps me alive?

Cowardice?

Or do I exist in spite of all this?

But why do I think about them.

When I know my disappointments don't count.

I am a Nobody.

If I were a Somebody, people would take notice of my feelings. They would seek a temporary escape from their Nobody status by hiding behind the Somebody-ness in my eyes. By faking empathy. By telling me how much they care. They would seek validation for their lives.

But I am a Nobody. Just like them. So Nobody cares. I can offer them nothing. Except the nothingness of being a Nobody. Reflect it back at them. Mirror their depravity. Make them more aware of it. So they shy away from me. Like they shy away from each other. Hiding behind masks of indifference. Busy-ness. Aloofness. Detachment. Whatever they can find. Anything that will keep their Nobody-ness hidden from them for a while. Escape artists all.

I know it well. I have seen how it is done. The shifty eyes, the hesitant look, their paltering words, and weasely voice, I have seen it all. The desperation to run away from the emptiness inside. Pouring alcohol to fill up the dark hole inside, till they pass out. I grew up watching it. Over and over again. In a family of Nobody-s.

My father is a Nobody.

So is my mother.

And their father and mother are Nobody-s too.

And their parents. And grand-parents. And great grand-parents. It goes on and on.

Into the very beginning of time. To when a Nobody's family was first born. When he must have walked around the caves and forests, in the hope that tomorrow he will find a way to remove the curse cast upon his family. Searched the rivers and valleys for a way to undo the cruel joke played by fate. He would have sought the secret of Somebody-ness. He would have hoped for salvation in that.

Hundreds and thousands of years went by, but that tomorrow never came. The ancestor's wish became a dream of a clan, then a myth within the family. Ever so slowly, unnoticed, it's spirit was lost in time. It's meaning surrendered. Finally, only children heard it, as a bedtime story. A few lay awake at night, not able to grasp it's real significance yet unable to push it away from their still uncorrupted souls and young minds. They tossed and turned restlessly, trying to make sense of the strange feeling the story left inside their being. Till the day dawned and took them back to the world of Nobody-s.

Nothing happened.

The family of Nobody-s became bigger. A bigger family of Nobody-s. They forgot all about the dream, relegated it to oblivion along with the memories of their ancestor and his search. Somebody-ness in life disappeared from Earth as if it never existed. Not even as a dream.

I am heir to that Nobody's legacy. Robbed off all pride, and left with the insignificance of being nothing.

Yet there is a difference.

They are all happy being who they are.

Those around me, they rejoice.

Content with their Nobody-ness in life.

I am not.

Being a Nobody makes me murderously angry.

It causes me physical pain. Nobody-ness chokes my life out. It makes me want to jump out of my skin. To run without knowing why or where.

It makes me sit awake through nights and think of a way to stop this nightmare called life.
I search furiously for a way to continue the journey my ancestor didn't complete.

A Nobody is soulless and ordinary.

Ordinariness bores me. It tires me. Makes it hard for me to keep up with it. Yet I find myself in the middle of mind-numbing ordinariness all day. It drives me crazy.

I want to be extraordinary.
I want my being to be challenged, my existence to be passionate.

I am not sure what drives me – my desire to be extraordinary or my fear of being ordinary?

Reality is distorted by my desire to escape it. Bend and mould it according to my fears. Dreams. Desires.

I stay away from the society. The Nobody-s make life look a lot more miserable that it really is. Their vacant stares and meaningless conversations make existence devoid of all traces of human life. I am weak enough to feel. So they shatter my peace. Sometimes, I feel they mock me. Secretly aware that I cannot live with the ignominy of being a Nobody, they thrust it in my face. The Nothingness of Life. I know it isn't true, yet I cry inside. It hurts.

I am not a Nobody. Life is not Nothing. That is the truth. I know. That is my secret. Like a crown of thorns, I carry it on me. Bleeding all the while.

Stay away. I tell myself. It is easier this way.

I mark seconds as they pass me by. Waiting. Working. Trying harder each day. Frantically seeking the passage that is lost in time. Praying to that first man on earth who died seeking glory to give me a sign. To forever end the Nobody-ness of my clan. To free us from the shame of living yet not being alive.

I live to discover Man – the animal supreme.