Mr. Nobody

by devonstruble13

I strongly believe there is a single defining moment in every man’s life that determines all he shall ever be.

I don’t believe in fate, or destiny, I believe we are all on a giant rock, orbiting a flaming ball of gas.

I do not recall my defining moment, I wish that I could. Perhaps that is my definition then. All I recall is that I started off going in one direction and ultimately changed courses. For what reason I decided this is unfathomable, but this is who I am.

When I get depressed at night, I make tomato soup and try to make it spicy, trying to perfect it. I do this is remembrance of what my friend had told me in the seventh grade. 

Upon his return from seventh grade camp, he told me about spicy tomato soup they had served and how delicious it was. When I went to the camp, they did not serve this soup. I have longed for its perfection ever since. 

In the day when I am depressed, I think about death and how many times I had tried to acquire it, failing each time but growing more successful in each attempt. It is sad to think that I am becoming better at trying to end my life than to perfect a soup.

I do not wish to not exist, and at the same time I wish to not exist, throwing me into a paradox of unimaginable distress. 

I wish to be Mr. Nobody, but a nobody that everyone knows. 

Such is the nature of my thoughts. 

When I do any drug, for the duration of the high I feel at peace, I do not wish anything except to be at peace. 

When I do not do drugs, my mind is in utter chaos. I can not think clearly, I never have been able too. I do not know what I want, nor have I ever. I do not even know why I keep on keeping on. 

I wish to move to a small, desolate island somewhere in the Atlantic, where there the total population only amounts to a few hundred at the largest, and a few dozen at the smallest. Where I am nobody to everybody. Therefor finally achieving my ultimate goal, to be a nobody that everyone knows.