Note: the following post is fictional.
My name is Damon, and I find myself to be incredibly interesting, but you might not think so.
I was 5 feet, nine inches the last time I checked. I’m assuming not much has changed. The same goes for my weight. 140 pounds. Lean, but I get pretty winded when I run up stairs. I try not to run too often, but there’s always seems to be times when you’ve just got to bolt. I wear wide-rimmed glasses with a heavy prescription because I have to. I often wear dark clothing and an oversized, light brown rain jacket because I want to. I have dark brown hair that falls lazily over the my forehead (I guess you could say this says something about my personality, but I’d rather you didn’t). And my one true defining trait would be a tattoo of a silver arrow on the inside of his elbow, right where the arm bends.
I left my hometown of Providence, Rhode Island for New York City at 15 years old. After the death of my mother when I was 10 I became a a pretty quiet kid. The only person I liked talking to was my neighbor from across the street, an 89-year-old widow named Mrs. Delvey. We used to chat about everything: how to keep annuals coming back, how to get out unruly wrinkles, and where to hide your precious stones in a hurry.
I hopped a bus one day with a bag of clothes and a generous donation from Mrs. Delvey to, as she said, “try again.” I think she meant something along the lines of getting a new life, a new chance; so I left my old one behind and headed out.
You could say I’ve struggled to get by, but, again, I’d rather you didn’t. Nothing’s easy, so you shouldn’t really expect it to be. I still like to stay silent most of the time, but I somehow managed to fall into a group of people with similar outlooks on life. These friends (I guess you could call them that) urged me to release his feelings somehow. That’s how I got into making visual art. My landlord urged me to pay the rent. That’s how I got into dog walking. I enjoys both these things. Neither requires much chatting with others.
Nowadays I lives by day-to-day, enjoying the simplicity of living but remaining keenly aware of the trouble that permeates the world I walks through. I have a nasty cigarette habit and a penchant for smoky night clubs where I can sit and enjoy the music without anyone bothering me except the server every once in a while.
I’ve had a few relationships too but never felt any connection – or really wanted to for that matter. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I loved my mother – I knows that. I might have even loved Mrs. Delvey, but in a motherly way as well. That’s the kind of feeling I miss. The little bits of esoteric knowledge Mrs. Delvey used to share; the long walks my mother took me on as a kid; the company of someone who doesn’t make it feel like anything but existing. I don’t look for this – it’s not something you can seek. If it came around, I might accept it but doubts are high that it would ever happen.