"Fuuuuck I'm so lonely!"
My words tore through the silence of my bedroom, bouncing off the cracked walls and faded ceiling.
How could I not be lonely? Nineteen years on this godforsaken rock, and not once have I made a single friend. Not once had I held a girl's hand. Hell, I could count the number of conversations I'd had with a girl on one hand — and I'd still have fingers left over!
This was — is, my life. Always has been. And after so much time, I've just accepted it.
Even my parents have given up on me. The moment I turned eighteen, they threw me out, calling me a "leech" and telling me to make a living on my own instead of sucking away their hard earned money.
To be honest, I can't really blame them, they were right. I really was a leech. I barely scraped through high school with average grades, and every job I applied for turned me away. Not entirely my fault though — the job market was pure garbage. Still is.
I never understood why my life was so… well, shit. It just always has been. And since it's the only life I've ever known, it doesn't really bother me anymore.
Well, most of the time.
"Why is my life like this… Does god really hate me that much!?"
The thought slipped out before I could stop it. Vulnerability always sneaked up on my at the worst moments. But hey, people say it's god to vent sometimes, right?
…Or at least, I think that's what they say. I wouldn't know. It's been years since I've had a proper conversation with another human being.
Anyway. Work.
The one stroke of luck in my otherwise cursed existence. After weeks of wandering the streets like a Vagrant, I somehow landed a part-time job at a warehouse — night shift, of course.
Day shift jobs? Out of the question. My nonexistent communication skills made sure of that.
But the night shift was different. No one talked to each other — nobody wanted to. Everyone just plugged in their earphones, tuned out the world, and worked in silence. My manager only hired me because of that.
Thanks to this job, I could afford a tiny, rundown studio apartment at the edge of town. Cheap rent. No roommates. No forced social interactions.
Perfect.
I glanced at the clock.
9:45 PM.
Time to go I guess.
"Hopefully, work will be able to take my mind off things today…"
With an accepting sigh, I grabbed my hoodie and stepped outside into the biting cold.
Considering it's a night shift, I start at 10pm and finish at 6am.
Of course, I fall into a slumber as soon as I get home in the morning, waking up anywhere around 12 - 2pm.
To anyone else thinking about working a night shift, I highly recommend getting blackout curtains. In fact, I'd go as far as to say they are essential!
I don't know how I'd be able to get such good sleep without them…
Wait — Who am I even talking to?
Haha… I guess the lack of human interaction has gotten to me…
Thunk!
The shoddy entrance to my apartment slammed behind me, startling one of the stray cats nearby, but it always did that, so I paid it no mind and put some earphones in and started making my way along the sidewalk.
'Fuck its cold!'
Winter…
God I hate winter.
Endless grey skies. Sunlight barely lasting a few hours. The air cold enough to make my breath visible. Depressing as hell.
This is why living in the northern hemisphere is so shit…
As I walked, I turned on my music, letting it drown out the outside world.
'Hum ~ Lalala! ~ Hum.'
'Damn, this song's quite catchy — for sure adding this to my playli—'
HONKK!
Screeeech!
"Watch where you're fucking going! Freak!"
"Oh fuck!"
A car skidded to a halt inches from my body. My heart pounded. For a split second, I felt weightless, like I was about to die — because I almost fucking did!
The driver, a middle aged guy, looked at me with wide, terrified eyes, sweating bullets.
I forced out an awkward chuckle.
"Haha… sorry!"
Then I ran across the street before I could suffer any further embarrassment.
Instinctively, I looked up at the light, and it was green.
I sighed in relief.
'Dumbass.'
I really needed to stop zoning out like that. One day it might actually get me killed. I'm lucky today wasn't that day!
At least the guy didn't look too angry at me, since it was clearly my fault.
In fact, it was actually pretty weird, since he seemed more scared and shocked instead.
Weird indeed.
"Oh my god…"
"He just hit that guy!"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
Some shouting from behind my caught my attention soon after.
'Damn. Another accident? This intersection must be cursed.'
Curious, I walked closer.
Wasting my time like this would only make me late for work, but it was only a few minutes, so whatever.
As I reached the crowd, my stomach twisted into a knot. I could feel the color drain from my face as the seconds ticked by.
Because the guy lying in the road…
Looked exactly like me.
Not just similar. Identical.
Same clothes. Same face. Same messy, unkempt hair.
'What the fuck…?'
Panic clawed at my throat. This wasn't normal…
'W-wait a minute… he looks EXACTLY like me! What the fuck!?'
'He's practically an exact fucking copy of me!'
I was startled, to say the least.
"Did some ungodly occurrence happen, where I'd met my doppleganger…?"
I asked my thoughts aloud. To no response of course — just like everything else with my life, ignored.
'Huh?'
Of course, I wasn't expecting anyone to respond to me, but the fact that nobody there even bothered to acknowledge my presence was weird.
"Hello? Can someone explain what the hell is going on?"
Nothing.
No one even looked at me.
Only becoming more confused by the second, I reached out to tap the driver's shoulder.
"Hey, man, what—"
'W-what the fuck!?'
A sickening chill ran down my spine.
My hand passed right through him.
"… What the fuck is happening?"
Everything started to make sense at this point, but my mind just refused to accept it.
'Is that dead guy… me?'
Of course, the very idea of looking at yourself lying dead in the road sounded absolutely insane — for good reason. But it was the only way things started to make sense — for me at least.