Little Man being Erased

[Ariel]

Going down the road I see, in those who pass by me, not the facial expressions that they really have but the kind of expressions that they would have if they knew the kind of life that I’ve led, if my face and my gestures revealed the shy and absurd abnormality of myself.In some eyes that don’t even look at me I suspect there are smirks directed at the awkwardness I embody in a world where people know how to act and enjoy life. I suddenly feel my self suffocating in the heat of the mockery and hostility. Everyone points their finger at me from the depths of their souls. I walk among cruel phantoms that my morbid imagination has created and placed in real people. Everything slaps me in the face and leers.Sometimes I stop where no one even notices me and I look around in search of a new dimension, a door leading into space, to the other side of it, where I could run war from my awareness of other people and my overly objectified perception of a reality that belongs to other people.Paralyzed and paranoid.As soon as I realize how they would feel if they knew me, it’s as if they really did feel that way, as if right at that moment they were feeling exactly that and expressing it. To associate with others is sheer torture for me. I’m forced to associate with them even when they’re nowhere near. All alone I’m surrounded by multitudes. There’s no escape possible, unless I were to escape from myself.(She ended by melting away.)