Home : Life at the corner of Jackson (a short story) – Pops – Medium

I see people walking. I hear them talking. They go here and there. Some walk, others jog, some run, and some I’ve even seen skip. They shop, eat, laugh, sing, drive by, and some even wave at me as they walk their dogs. They go to work. They get off of work. Some look so tired. Some look like they’re in a daze. Some even seem stuck in thought like me.

As I watch all this take place in front of my own eyes, I ask myself why am I watching? Why am I not doing the things they’re doing? Why am I the spectator? I feel disconnected from it all. I seem to have trouble even making sense as to why they’re doing the things they do. It’s like watching robots. They’re on autopilot. It’s confusing. Some even call what they’re doing living. Why don’t I see it that way anymore?

Society teaches us that these are the things we must do. We go about our lives doing what seems like meaningless tasks. And then one day we die. As I look at them I feel as if some are already dead. Many don’t look happy. It’s as if they’re dead inside. Maybe we all are. Maybe that’s it. We’re mentally dead. We’re simply going through the motions of life. It doesn’t look fun. Life used to be fun. I feel we’re all longing for a place that’s far far away from earth…our forever home. That’s where we were meant to be. Some of us feel out of place because this isn’t our home. We don’t belong here.