FRACTURE

Embarrassing!

It feels absolutely embarrassing when I look at myself wearing all these clothes—clothes bought by someone else’s money, earned through someone else’s effort... not mine. The things that cover me every day and night, the things that stay with me even when I leave everything behind, were never truly mine. They all came from someone else’s money.

It becomes even more embarrassing when I look into the mirror, knowing that even the mirror itself is not mine. It was never bought with my own money. Everywhere I look around this house, I see the same thing: how dependent I am. Nothing belongs to me. Nothing has ever truly been mine.

Embarrassing!

I just looked at my hand—writing with a yellow pen on a large notebook. Even that—something created by my own hand—is surrounded by things that I did not buy. Not a single thing around me belongs to me. Not a single thing ever was.

“Where’s your house?”

“Oh, it’s at the...”

No. Forget that nonsense. I don’t have a house. I’ve been living in someone else’s place my entire life.

You might think that’s normal. Maybe for many people, it is. But for me, it never feels normal. It feels like a constant reminder of everything I don’t have. It feels embarrassing.

And the biggest embarrassment in this house is me. “I” am the embarrassment. I don’t own anything. I don’t buy anything. I don’t pay for anything. I don’t... fuck this. Fuck everything.

I don’t even know why I think this way. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is just anger speaking. But sometimes I feel like I’m right—and maybe it’s the people around me who fail to understand.