Today, I just decided to stand at my [House].
I didn't feel like going to the main town. Don't want to be killed today, and I'm almost sure that the stupid bastard won't come here since it barely exists. Maybe it exists for us [ ]s at best. But what's the point?
I crouch down, looking around at the other [House]s scattered across the vast emptiness. Each one looks the same—an indistinct blur of the word 'house'. It's the same for everyone, but none of them seem to mind. They just go about their day like it's normal.
"Hey, [ ], you good?" someone calls from a few [House]s away.
I glance over at him—another [ ] just standing there. He's got that same empty look in his eyes, just as vacant as the rest of us. But there's something off in his tone, like he's asking out of politeness rather than genuine concern. They never truly care. They can't even see what I see.
"Yeah," I mutter, my voice hoarse. "Just standing here."
He nods, like that's a perfectly normal response. "Yeah, I get it. Me too. It's like, there's nothing to do, but that's fine. Just another day."
Another day.
I stand up, arms hanging limp by my sides as I stare at the endless horizon of [House]s. Some of the others are talking, exchanging meaningless words, barely even acknowledging each other as they go through the motions of their day. They talk like they're all comfortable here, like there's nothing wrong. But everything is wrong. This isn't a place, it's just a collection of dead spaces filled with nameless bodies.
"How's everything going, [ ]?" Another one calls from another [House], barely looking my way.
"Same as always," I say, though I can't even remember what "always" means. "How about you?"
"Oh, you know. Nothing much. Just... hanging out." The voice is too calm, too unbothered, as though everything is perfectly fine. They don't see it. None of them do.
I hear laughter from the distance—a bunch of them, laughing as if something funny just happened. I don't even understand what they're laughing at. What's funny about this? What's funny about being trapped in this place, pretending it's a life?
I step back, staring at the others. They're all talking, walking around, doing whatever it is that they do here. They don't even question it. They don't care.
"They don't get it," I whisper under my breath.
But it's true—they don't.
I clench my fists, the reality of it all crushing down on me. The others think this is normal. They think this is their life. They don't feel the suffocating weight of the nothingness pressing in on them. They don't see the cracks in the world. They don't feel the void expanding with every passing second.
And I'm just standing here, like some kind of fool.
"What's up with you, [ ]?" someone calls from behind me.
I turn around, and one of them is leaning against their [House], arms crossed, looking completely unbothered.
"Nothing," I reply, forcing myself to smile even though it feels like my mouth is made of stone. "Just thinking."
"Thinking? About what?" they ask, tilting their head, curiosity barely peeking through their vacant expression.
I pause. What could I even say? They wouldn't understand. They couldn't.
But part of me feels a strange urge to say something, anything. To make them see what I see, even if only for a moment.
"About... why we're here," I say softly, too softly, almost as if I'm not sure I even want the answer. "Why we're all just standing here. Why everything's like this."
The [ ] laughs, like it's a joke, a little chuckle that's too casual to be real.
"You're acting weird today, [ ]. Everything's fine. Just take a breath and chill, okay?"
They turn and walk back to their [House], completely unaffected, leaving me standing there in silence. It stings, like I've been slapped. How can they think it's fine? How can they just keep going on like this is normal?
But that's the problem, isn't it? To them, this is normal. This is just how it is.
I stay crouched there for a while longer, watching as the others move about, pretending they have lives. I feel... nothing. I want to scream, I want to tear the world apart, but it wouldn't matter. They wouldn't hear it. They wouldn't even care.
And so, I remain here. Alone, amidst a sea of [ ]s, who are all just as lost as I am, but too blind to see it. They'll never ask the questions, never see the cracks.
I clench my fists once more, the anger rising, bubbling just beneath the surface. I can feel it—the heat spreading through my veins, the frustration, the rage. They're all so fucking clueless, so content in their little bubbles. They don't even know.
I take a step forward, then another, my legs shaking with the intensity of it. It's not enough to just stand here anymore. I need them to feel it. They need to feel what I'm feeling.
"You don't get it!" I scream, my voice raw, crackling with fury. The words tear out of me, harsh and jagged. "This isn't real! None of this is real! You're all just pieces—pawns, just playing your parts like it's some kind of game!"
They don't flinch. They just keep moving around, talking, not even looking up. As if they hadn't even heard me. As if nothing had changed.
I step closer, my fists clenched tighter now, white-knuckled. My heart beats faster, the adrenaline pumping, but it doesn't matter. They're still just moving around, their conversations like soft background noise. I want to make them hear me. I want to make them see.
I shove one of them hard, my shoulder crashing into theirs. The impact feels like it should have been more, but it's just... empty. No resistance, no reaction.
They turn to me, expression blank, like I'm the one who's out of place. "Hey, chill out, [ ]. What's the deal?" they ask, tilting their head with that same expressionless stare. "You're kinda freaking me out."
I can feel my teeth grinding together. "Freaking you out? You—you don't even know what's happening!" I'm shaking now, not sure if it's the anger or the disbelief. "You're just a damn puppet in a world that doesn't give a shit about you!"
"Uh… okay," they say, shrugging as if it's no big deal. "If you're not feeling good, maybe you should go inside and rest for a while."
Rest? Rest!? How can they talk like everything's normal, like they're just… living their little lives without even questioning it? I grab them by the shoulders, shaking them harder than I intend, but it doesn't matter. They don't seem to care. They're just waiting for me to stop, like I'm some kind of inconvenience.
"You're not real," I growl. "None of you are. You don't even see it, do you? You're nothing. Nothing!"
They blink at me, still as calm as ever. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're having a moment, but you gotta calm down. You're scaring me, dude."
Scaring them? Scaring them? I want to scream, I want to snap their necks and make them understand what it's like to feel something, to know that nothing here matters, that everything is just an endless loop. But I don't do it. I just stand there, staring at them, my hand tightening around their arm.
"Stop acting like everything is fine! Stop pretending!" I yell again, each word cutting through the air like a knife. I feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my vision blurring with the rage that's coursing through me. "You don't even care about what happens! You're just here, wasting time. And you don't even see what's wrong!"
The person's face doesn't change. Their gaze doesn't flicker. "Alright, [ ], you're starting to get on my nerves," they say, still too calm, too composed. "Maybe you need to just walk away, huh? Take a break. You're making things weird for everyone."
"Weird?!" My voice breaks with the intensity, the pressure of it all finally exploding. I don't even think about it anymore—I swing my fist at their face, aiming for anything that might make them feel something. But they just duck, barely flinching, and my fist sails through empty air.
"Whoa, okay, hold up," they say, stepping back with an almost bored expression. "What's your deal, [ ]? Just take a breather, yeah? You're really getting out of hand."
I can't stop. My hand moves again, faster this time. I hit them across the shoulder, harder, with all the force I can muster. And again, it's the same—the impact should feel like something. It should knock them down, make them realize what I'm saying, but it doesn't.
They shift, their eyes glancing up at me for a brief moment. "You done? Because, honestly, I'm not in the mood for your drama right now."
Drama? I'm standing here, screaming at them, fighting, and they're calling it drama? The anger rises higher, burning through me like wildfire. I don't care anymore. I swing at them again, but this time, I'm not sure if I even care if they move.
The punch connects. Finally.
But they don't react like I want them to. They don't stumble back, they don't get hurt. They don't even seem to care. They just stand there, staring at me with that same, vacant gaze.
"Seriously, [ ], stop," they say, a little annoyed now, like I've just interrupted their day. "I get it. You're upset. But this? This isn't helping."
It's not helping. None of it is. They won't understand. They can't.
I drop my fists, staring at them in disbelief. I'm gasping for air, the fight draining from me like water through a broken pipe. My hands tremble, but I don't know what for anymore. I can't make them see it. I can't make them feel anything.
They don't care.
I give up. I guess I learned something new today! Which is, pouring your everything to these people doesn't matter because they're blind as shit.
I crouch down again, the weight of it sinking in. My hands, still trembling, rest against my knees. It's all pointless. Every word, every scream, every punch thrown—it means nothing. Nothing changes. I'm just a [ ] in a world where the rules don't even make sense. Where they don't even care.
Damn, ended the tears. Can't even cry anymore. It feels like something's broken inside, like I've drained myself dry. I stare at the ground, the cracks in the floor mocking me, as if it's all the same, as if nothing here matters.
It's not even sadness anymore. Just... emptiness. An endless loop of trying and failing, screaming and falling silent, over and over again. And they're all still walking around, talking like it's some kind of normal life. Like this is it. Like this is enough.
I close my eyes, letting the silence wash over me. I can hear them all still chatting, still pretending. It's so... normal to them. But not to me. Not anymore.
It doesn't matter. It'll never matter.
I just stay there, crouched, staring at nothing.