It’s how they draw me in. These people, these blank, dull… oh God I can’t stand it. It’s true, sadly it’s so true, these people in my life, I hate them. I want to go away. I want to run away from the uncivilized nature that is this city. These people I don’t care about are such a huge part of everything I am. I don’t want to be a part of these people, but they just keep drawing me in. They paint me into their portrait of their life, I don’t want to be there, don’t they understand? “Don’t talk to me, go away” I scream in my head. But on the outside it’s just a muffled whimper. It’s these thoughts, it’s these thoughts that rumble and scream in my head as I sleep, my mind’s awake, my mind is always awake. And I sleep until I wake up, and when I wake up, I can’t wait till I sleep again.

But eventually my eyes open, forced to welcome the earth around me, it’s all routine.

I work in an office. Yeah, I’m that guy; that guy in the business suit who walks down the streets of New York City. I’m the guy you think is important, but I’m not. Everyday I sit there at that desk with the dust slowly forming over it. In that cubicle that boxes me out from the rest of the world. I like it there. Everything is white, let me make that apparent “Everything is white” I say as I walk towards the large menacing office building. The walls, the desks, the computers, the floors, I’ll say it again everything is white. You know that boss that you hate everyday of your life. I have one of those. He’s not mean, he just doesn’t listen to me, he ignores me, he doesn’t know I exsist. I’m just another blank face in a blank office that makes my day go dry. I sit in that cubicle, and I talk to people, people who don’t want to talk to me, that’s my job.

“Hello Ma’am my name is Greg from World and You monthly, and I was wondering if you would like a subscription to our magazine?” I ask.

“Greg, why don’t you get a real job and stop bothering other people who already have one!” she yells and then hangs up.

I’ve heard that one before; I’ve been working here so long I hear all the come backs. I’ve come to think of all people this way. We think we are so different from each other, but there are so many things that make us similar. I’m sure there are the few that are different; I know I would never say anything like that to someone. But then again I wouldn’t rob a bank either; I guess it all depends on perspective. “Maybe I would rob a bank” I say blankly while sitting at my desk.

It’s time for a coffee break. Everyday at twelve thirty, that’s when I enjoy my favorite part of the day. Oh how I savor those fifteen minutes in that small bagel shop. The neon lights, the bright faces, the cheesy posters, and the bugs that feast on treats that people drop and forget about. “Almost there” I announce to the world as I turn the corner. Only there I can tell people about how weird I am, and they’ll be weirder. They also talk to themselves; they also organize their pantry in alphabetical order. I tell these people my dreams; my dream of wanting to make enough money to get away from it all, to get away from everyone.

I walk up to the counter, and then he walks in, the man who did what I couldn’t do. He walks up to the counter and pushes me away. I feel separated from it all. The man takes out a gun. I’m not scared, why am I not scared? I couldn’t run away, the robber saw me, and if I moved he would shoot me, that’s what he said. As he yelled at the cashier; spit flew out of his mouth and landed on the cashier’s face. Then everything is silent. The cashier fills a bag with money from the register. The robber takes the bag but drops it. I watch him bend down to pick it up, at that moment the cashier takes out a gun from behind the counter. The robber gets up, he sees the cashier holding the gun; the robber fires and as a reaction so does the cashier. They both fall to the ground, now I am alone. Thinking on my feet I go to run away, but then I see the bag of money lying on the floor. It stares back at me. “It could solve all my problems” I say out loud. I bend down and take the money. I walk towards the door, and then my back begins to hurt. The floor begins to move under me, I fall to the ground. I look behind me, and there the robber lays eyes wide open with a gun in his hands. Everything turns blurry, and then everything turns white, I’ll say it again everything is white.