NervousMan is Alone in a Crowd

NervousMan saw the people at the coffee shop downstairs, gathered together in a big circle, laughing and talking and sipping coffee and smoking. NervousMan felt a bit envious. Like, *they* have a peer group, and have a big crowd to be in, to socialize with, and to have fun, with.... and NervousMan just feels jealous and left out.

NervousMan just couldn't make any inroads socially, because... well, because he was so nervous. NervousMan is a...a... 'voluntary isolate', alone in a crowd... someone had once said to him long ago. And yet, even so, NervousMan felt jealous when he saw a big group like that having a good time.

Walking by, NervousMan pictured himself in the group and just IMAGINING it made NervousMan nervous.

NervousMan looked down, and one of the group laughed, and a titter ran through the crowd. Were they laughing at NervousMan? NervousMan didn't know. NervousMan really never knew what people were laughing at when they laughed.

NervousMan thought again to himself (which was his favorite way). 'well, you know, they are a bunch of 20-something hipsters and NervousMan is... NervousMan is just a 45 year.... whaaaat?'.

NervousMan didn't know.

NervousMan sighed, and realized that he didn't fit in anywhere. That was his problem. It was something he had realized before. Like going into an old room where he had been many times.

NervousMan felt self-actualized, but did he actually have a self? NervousMan didn't know.

But he wondered.

Later, NervousMan shifted his weight on the park bench he sat on, under a tree's shade, watching the fountains spraying their whitewater upward on a pillar of white foam and noise. A summer's breeze sent a few sprinkles his way. NervousMan closed his eyes and gasped sharply.

Someone on a park bench nearby bristled, but NervousMan didn't know why.

NervousMan didn't really WANT to fit in anyway, he thought. He felt like he would LOSE himself if he, for a moment 'fit in'. And THAT would be an especially terrifying feeling for NervousMan. His SELF or his... sense of self, well, it was all he really had.

And yet... he did not know what IT was.

Maybe there WAS no 'self', really, thought NervousMan.

Wasn't 'self' just an idea? A word?

But that thought made NervousMan nervous. If he wasn't anybody, who was he?

NervousMan didn't know.

NervousMan looked up watched a large woman in a bright red suit walking quickly by him. He heard the sharp tap-tap-tap of her large shoes as they struck the pavement over and over. NervousMan winced. Her hair was big, and jet black. And NervousMan wondered if it was a wig.

The woman seemed to be coming from an official function and carried some kind of large purse around her shoulder, from which an oxygen tube came. The other end of the tube was under her nose.

'Emphysema' thought NervousMan. Poor woman.

And yet, maybe she had been a real cunt all of her life and deserved it. Blowing smoke in people's faces. Laughing at others, and being cruel. Drinking too much coffee. Looking down on people.

NervousMan didn't know how to feel about the woman because he didn't know who she was.

NervousMan shuddered. He realized that his essential social anxiety stemmed from the fact that he didn't know who he was either. People would ask him about himself in social situations, and NervousMan didn't know how to answer. He was... unsure. Unsure of him self.

Oh sure, most people would say of themselves, 'I'm Steve' or "I'm your waiter this evening" or 'I'm my father's son' or 'I'm a conservative' or "I'm a Mets fan". People like the crowd in front of the coffee shop would say such things s they introduced themselves to each other and smiled and laughed.

That's fine for them, NervousMan thought. They're content with that. They don't feel they need look into the question of 'who they are' any more deeply than that. They are happy.

NervousMan felt nausous.

What if he needed the help of one of those people someday? Had he considered all possibilities? What would he say to them in such circumstances?

NervousMan looked up to the sky which had no clouds in it at all. What a beautiful day it must be, thought NervousMan. He looked at the fountains again and listened to the woooosh they made.

Yes, thought NervousMan, most people did not look very deeply into the question of who they are. On the other hand, NervousMan looked into the question as deeply as he possibly could, at all times. Like a studious astronomer trying to peer back into space to catch a glimpse of the universe's origin. Like these folks he heard about on the radio, when it went off in the morning, looking for 'the God particle'.

Maybe, just maybe, in a sense, NervousMan WAS God. If he really had no self. But... in what sense was that?

NervousMan frowned. That's crazy, he thought.

These questions, they kept NervousMan's mind busy, he supposed.

But, while NervousMan was so busy thinking of these questions, and wondering about it all, he found it really hard to pay attention to whatever else was going on around him, on the outside of things. Yes. NervousMan felt very much on the outside of things. And nervously, that's where he really wanted to be. Things, after all, made NervousMan nervous.

NervousMan Sits Quietly in His Darkened Room

NervousMan sat in his darkened bedroom. The dark felt good on his eyes and let them rest. Sometimes he would open the blinds and let the sun in, but only in the afternoon when the light was indirect.

Sometimes, when NervousMan would walk outside, the sun would hit his eyes and he would sneeze violently. People would stare at NervousMan and NervousMan would feel nervous.

NervousMan wondered if he should sleep. What else is there to do? he thought to himself. This was NervousMan's favorite way of thinking: to himself.

I'll just close my eyes he thought and listen to the silence.

It wasn't entirely silent in NervousMan's room. Somewhere off in the distance, he could hear the faint revving of a leaf blower, starting and stopping and starting again. Somewhere, leaves were being blown along the sidewalk, by someone.

Perhaps the rain had knocked the leaves down, thought NervousMan. NervousMan liked the rain. It gave him an excuse to stay inside.

NervousMan wondered who the person with the leafblower was. Maybe the leafblower was a nice person. And pleasant. Someone who was not at all nervous. Just blowing leaves.

NervousMan enjoyed silence more than noise. Noise made NervousMan nervous. If he were walking outside and a door opened suddenly nearby, or someone closed a car hood, or if people laughed suddenly, NervousMan would jump, and his heart would race. Other people would walk by as if nothing had happened.

What was wrong with NervousMan? NervousMan didn't know. NervousMan frowned in the darkness of his room. Perhaps, if I can find out what is wrong, then I can set it right, he thought to himself again.

But first, he had to know.

NervousMan felt tired and he reminded himself to breathe again. Why did he keep forgetting? What was wrong? That was the question he wanted to know the answer to. And yet the question made NervousMan weary, tired, sleepy.

For now, NervousMan would sleep. Maybe by the time he woke up, things would be better than they were now.

Sleeping is good, NervousMan thought. In dreams, NervousMan was a God, but when he woke up, here in the other world, he was only a man.

Slowly, NervousMan lifted the covers and made his way into his bed. It was only 4pm but it would be nice to be in the dreamworld for a few hours.

From far away the leafblower continued to blow. NervousMan could hear it, his eyes shining in the darkness.

What is wrong? What is wrong? he thought as the room seemed to get darker around him. What is wrong with me? NervousMan thought as he drifted off to sleep.