There's No Place For Us

"I've yet to succeed in holding a job—my insomnia is too forbearing. In any case, I've never worked well with others…Ahaha, and I used to fault my classmates for not speaking their minds to me. I'm not convinced a word I have said has landed in another's ears—of course, misunderstood is an understatement at best. Nonetheless, I've tried it all: I've spoken words that only ran through calculation—I've also made a fool of myself saying whatever comes to mind. But how is it possible! I read in one of his books that we are wired to work together to achieve common goals—am I the one who is faulty? It's all so difficult, regardless: I lose my head when talking to anyone—like a serpent plugs all the valves in my brain or all the pipes in my throat—and all the while I see others run their mouths until their throats turn dry—speaking about the most trivial trifles. What do they know that I do not?

Whatever the case, it takes only one wrong step to set me off. I cannot say I blame others for disassociating with me. Off my head I can recount many times: mother told me once to shush while she was talking, so I knocked over a stool with a vase in the next room—an ex told me once, "stop," while I was in a flurry about my emotions, so I put my ring in her sink and walked out—and the man I took this house from insinuated I was lesser than him because he did not have the same troubles I did, so I…ugh…did what I was forced to. Are my methods extreme? But considering these cases: I was not the instigator. I'm certain that those three have all, in their lives, listened to someone that supposedly mattered to them ramble endlessly about a trouble of theirs—why are my emotions not even worthy of so little consideration? And how much longer I listened to their pains than they ever could have mine! That's the worst of it…I've never had a chance of anything resembling a reciprocal relationship—anything that would appear fifty-fifty. But what could be said about the relationships that I could bear? What would it mean? I haven't been one to share my thoughts with anyone…But it's fair to say I'm scared to. I've suffered so long under the weight of my illnesses—the thoughts I've grown out of them are my treasures. I am to just throw them to another person who will discard them immediately? To take without giving—that's all it has been. And they will not change. People can't change. How could it be that I am one of these people?

So let's say I succeed in finding employment and can hold it for six months and somehow not get fired for ill-will, coming in late, or my bad temper. Even the 'finding employment' part is unlikely with how little there is in this area—but let's say I could. Presuming I could somehow not get kicked out of here soon, I could have a way of staying alive with food and shelter and perhaps get these lights back on. But everyone has that much…Would it really be so much worse to simply take another person's place—just as I've taken this one than it would be to force myself into wage-slavery? That's really what it is…I cannot act as though I'm doing meaningful work when I know the profits I make flow upward…And minimum wage is not enough to even live—let alone dig myself out of the hole I've plunged myself into. Moreover, it would only succeed at chipping away at my mind—which is the only thing about myself I can say I'm happy with…Maybe I should consider crime again—crime apart from the ones I've already done—as a way to make money, but I have no know-how of how to do theft or make substances or hack systems. That crap is probably heavily pay-walled. It's a shame, too, I feel that I could be good at it…

But I thought that back then too…I didn't even get to enact my plan because she kept…GAH—Ow, my chest again! I can't think back to that night without my heart hurting…I've forgotten everything else I've lived through because it's locked behind that one night…I'm sure she took the keys…I'm sure of it! If only there was some way to prove it…I should've looked around all of the house before running away, damn it! And to think, I'm not even sure if I told the truth in a court of law…But even if I didn't, I had to lie! Isn't it weird that I'm the one-percent of one-percent who goes to court and gets away free? I have no doubts of what I did—as I should. There's no one here to apologize to…

So I'm a mere syntax error when it comes to other people—and that makes sense. It's not even that I'm alone in the heights of my own head—I'm alone in this world…I cannot fathom otherwise. Think of it: if all people were in common and stood on common ground, what or who would take untold journeys on untold seas? And if all were figured out, who would speak—in my heart—that which has not been spoken? I must be alone…I'm either alone or a madman—and I would pick anything but a madman…Yeah…so far it has been all or nothing with me. I cannot let it end in nothing. I refuse to let it end in nothing.

So I had to run away! I can't be convinced otherwise—I'm done trying to convince myself otherwise! I've done nothing but sit here for days trying to dislodge my own conviction. I planned none of this—so why does it all feel according to plan…especially when I've no reason to continue forward—even more so, every reason to give up. But he who laughs best now—"

He heard a knock at the front door. He clenched his heart for the fourth time and stood still as death. The knocking continued for several minutes until he heard shouting outside.

"Hiro! Hiro! Answer the door!"

The man who could not remember his name pointed at the closet across the room from him with a nervous smile and nervous laugh. "Hiro…he's talking to you…"

"Come to the door now! I know you're in there, Hiro!"

He stood quiet and felt his pulse in his ear. After several more minutes he heard the voice outside speak again:

"Heh, it's a good thing I brought you with me. Officer, we've got a warrant, go ahead and break it open!"

The nameless man whispered aloud to himself: "Is this guy serious?! Is that even legal?" Thankfully, the officer with the man outside answered him:

"I can't legally break down the door…"

The nameless man gave a sigh of relief.

"...without identifying myself. This is private investigator Ren with Shinjuku Police! Open up!"

"I...I want to be mad but I'll give him points for his timing," muttered the nameless man again. It was almost half a minute before it started: BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The nameless man had no plan, he was only hoping the door would hold. But half a minute later it flew open and his heart sank.

"Hiro? Hiro! Where are you, buddy?" shouted the investigator. The man with him also mumbled, "Why are all the lights off? His car is out front. It was locked from the inside—I know he's home…" The nameless man heard footsteps slowly coming through the main hall.

"No, no, no! I can't be found in here—this is where…Hiro is…" In any case, the footsteps were only coming closer."

"Hiro! Hiro! Come out. We just want to make sure you're all right!"

"He is, in fact, not all right. And neither am I…"

He heard the investigator speak as he walked past his room. "The main hallway is clear. Let's search all the rooms. Stand guard in the hallway in case he tries to escape."

"Yeah, make him watch the hallway because it was too easy already…damn it. Think! Oh…yes. That's an idea." The nameless man took out his phone. It was on very low battery as the building hasn't had running electricity for the past month. He could justify here the remaining use of it. He went to the internet and prayed his idea would work.

The policeman and man with him then started to hear frantic footsteps in the grass outside. The policeman shouted: "You let him get away, I hear him outside!" to which the man responded "No, I saw nothing!" Nonetheless, they were both running outside through the front door. The nameless man then ran out the back, hopped the fence, and made it into the adjoining street without being seen. He powered his phone off and felt relieved his plan worked.