It is difficult to understand what drives a man to his destiny. What makes him do the things that make him famous, that make him great, that make him respected, that make him kill…
You’ll probably not even have noticed me sitting in the room, but you might have observed that I always have my back against the wall. But then again, did you? You see, man has become so self-centred, so oblivious to anyone other than himself that he doesn’t really catch “subtleties” anymore.
So you probably didn’t see me looking at you, you probably didn’t see me walking besides you in the street as you were left the cafe.
Society and its protectors have trained and conditioned us so well so that we notice people who might be following us or look different than us that everything else (everything that looks normal ) serves only as a backdrop to our own lives.
You probably didn’t notice me at all untill I stopped you, asked the time and slit your throat. You see, by the time your blood rushed out and I was screaming bloody murder, the knife had already gone down the drain without any prints on it. A lucky fisherman will probably find it a few days later and use it to gut a fish…
I wonder as I write this if you had a family, friends, a lover, a pet…
I wonder if you were important to the people who worked with you or to those who stayed close by…
I wonder if you were liked by the milkman, the paper boy, the building security? I wonder if someone noticed you … until I did.