On the elevated road, I can only see fragments of the sky. The thin threads stretching to the concrete ceiling remind me of something vast and unreachable. For most people, it’s just a patch of blue, but for me, that strip of sky is everything. It reminds me of all of the above.
I have been here for days. Counting the cars as they rumble overhead, feeling the vibrations of the ground beneath my back. They are a steady mechanical heartbeat, reminding me of a world that is still rushing to a place I no longer belong. Or perhaps never did.
People pass by. Sometimes, they are close enough that I can see discomfort flicker in their eyes before they look away. I have become invisible with my visibility. Another form of the shadow of the city. They say that people like me are always being looked at, but do they really ever see us? We are the ghosts of fear without our own approval. There is a strange clarity to invisibility. When no one is looking back, you begin to see the world with sharper relief.
But what most people don’t realize is that I haven’t always been here. I once had what they call a normal life, a home, a career, a family. I was someone who once had those things…