Wanderer

[Mardrax]

Tonight...

Tonight is little different from any other night really.

Nothing to do.

Nothing to say.

Nothing to think.

So I wander, as every other night, and every other day.

Not out of boredom, I haven't been bored for as long as I can remember.

I just do.

 

How long I have lived like this? I honestly couldn't answer that.

Do I live at all? I honestly cannot answer that either.

I exist, that I do know, or at least, I think.

Or maybe I'm just imagining everything. Could that be?

Can something that doesn't exist still imagine?

 

Some people would no doubt deny my existence without blinking once.

Then again, most people aren't even aware of me even if I bump into them.

I am.

 

I can move through concrete walls as if they aren't there.

Any width of lead will not stop my passing, nor can I care a bit about water, running or no.

But living things, humans, animals, they cast me out if I, in a moment of not paying attention, try to move through them. Is there a difference between those? Humans and animals, I mean? I guess not, technically speaking. Piles of flesh and bones all of them. The sensation of being kept out by them is also the same, for me, and for them. For me, it's a rather violent experience. For them, they don't even notice anything happened, and they go on their daily lives.

Humans however, I remember.

Faintly, but I remember.

I remember how yesterday, or was it the day before? The week before? I remember a child -he can't have been into puberty yet- getting hit by a car. A black one, I think, with someone who seemed too big to be driving it behind the wheel. Yes.

He stepped out of his car with some effort, fidling with his far too large fingers on a far too small phone.

 

I remember the look on his face. Irritated, anoyed, not more than that.

 

I remember a woman walking on the sidewalk, carrying a bag of groceries. Must have been out buying fruit, as a second later, the bag was on the floor, a few apples spilled out. She was still screaming then, and fainted beside her groceries another second or so later.

 

The kid I don't remember anything from. Except the look in his eyes as they closed. Pleading. Eyes aimed directly at me. Yet I couldn't help him. I can't help anyone. I can just watch.

Is that why I exist? To watch? But to what purpose?

 

Some people can feel when I'm around though. Another affirmation to my existence, in a way. Though I can't remember how many times people have claimed I was the spirit of some dead family member, friend, or even pet. That was a nice one. I'd never been called a cat before.

Then again, I could have been, once. But if so, I cannot remember.

Others start making crufixes in the air, or hold one up, dangling from a chain. That's another way to make you feel welcome, I guess.

 

I just wander around this city, day and night, night and day, because those two don't matter to me much. I don't tire, I don't get bored, I don't feel the pain of staying up on one's feet for hours on end, as I've heard some people attest to. Heck. I don't even have feet.

 

Sometimes, someone peaks my interest for some reason, and I follow them around for some time, days, sometimes. Mostly though, they return to a lover here, a friend there, and I don't think it'd be... polite to intrude upon their privacy like that.

Listen to me. Privacy. As if anyone would notice. Still. I would like to think I have my values, senseless though they may be. "Our creed is but for ourselves", as I believe to have heard somewhere, some day.

 

Following people that use public transportation is quite awkward for me too. Especially during rush hours it's hard to find an empty spot on a subway or bus, especially if the people cannot see me. I've tried once though. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

Someone walked into the spot I was in and the next instant I was bouncing back and forth between people all across the carriage. When the train finally stopped, and some people got out, I didn't know how fast to get out of there again.

I'd be hard pressed to repeat that attempt, so for now, I'll just walk.

 

Is it possible to walk without feet? Without legs?

I can talk without a mouth, so I guess it's possible.

Or maybe I'm just subconsciously trying to be as humanlike as I possibly can. Trying to adapt to my surroundings. Because I'm not ofcourse. Human, I mean.

But do I even talk? I never know, since I'm the only one listening to my ramblings, and I don't know if anyone else would like to. I don't even know if I like to listen to myself. But I guess I'll have to.

These long periods of silence at night tend to be filled with nothing but inward speech for me.

Reflecting, in some way, on me, on my... life? I guess. In some way.

How would you define life? I've heard doctors declare someone dead as soon as their heartbeat stops for some time. When brain activity ceases, even.

That would mean I never was alive. Still I like to think I am, if only for myself.

 

I prefer weekends.

There's always something happening on weekend evenings.

Bars, clubs and other venues flood with people every friday and saturday.

But on weekdays, there's little to draw my interest.

Occasionally a gang will decide to shoot up another gang. After you've seen that a few times though, there's little interesting left about it. People sleeping on park benches, empty bottles still clutched in a hand, somewhere beneath a few layers of cardboard have also lost my interest long ago.

 

So now I just wander, and talk to myself, hoping... hoping nothing really.

I just... do. Am.