Chapter 1: Empty Afternoon

When I look in the mirror, a shadow looks back at me, a silhouette, void of life. The shame of my being blinds me, tortures me.

After washing my hands I return to my room. The sun is blinding, piercing through my window and revealing the world outside. I don't know when exactly, but looking outside stopped being painful. For the first few months in my self imposed confinement, when I observed the world, I felt pain, jealousy, bitterness. Green trees, families, people walking their mutts, music blasting and construction workers enjoying themselves half naked.

"Disgusting, all of it."

However, when I look outside now, it doesn't feel like that anymore, no more pain, I can do it for as long I want.

It's summer already, the sun is strong, it almost burns my skin and lights up my whole room. My gaze briefly falls upon the mouldy corners of my room, checking if they are still there.

Why wouldn't they be, I ask myself? I have no real answer. I haven't pulled my curtains for a long time. I could not see them, so I wasn't sure whether or not they still exist. It's a foolish notion, mould grows in dark places, and it's sure as hell dark in here.

When I look back at the streets, I notice someone looking at me, my heart immediately starts racing, something like this hasn't happened before. It's a woman, with blond hair, wearing a running jumper and ear buds still plugged in her ears. I don't understand, she's staring at me, dumbfounded.

Why is she doing this? My face is flushing, breath quickening, I feel threatened.

I can't handle her eyes on me, she's the first person to notice me in months, I pull the curtains with shaking hands.

I only have a moment of calm before a thought invades my mind, which makes my adrenaline spike and the pinching feeling all over my body follows. What if she comes to check on me? That'd be horrible, I run towards the front door to lock it, but as I try to turn the key I realise that I already did that earlier.

I return to my room, sit on my bed, and give myself a few minutes to calm down.

How has it come to this? Something like this hasn't happened before. Did I do something wrong? Am I the weird one or she is? I don't understand, even in confinement people still find a way to cause me discomfort.

She looked well-off,that running gear seemed expensive and she was wearing one of those phone holding arm pads.

It's always the rich people who are the weirdest, exercising their peculiarities on the average folk. They makes me sick.

Although it's all just my assumption. Pretentious, disgusting assumptions. I'm horrible. What would she say if she knew about what I'm thinking right now? Imaginingthe possibilitiesmakes my heart race. Maybe she would scream at me? Tell me the truth about how narrow-minded and pathetic I am? Maybe give me a weird look and leave showing that my opinion doesn't matter and how powerless I am? Maybe cry because I'm right? No, that one is truly impossible.

I have to stop thinking about this. It's already 1:10pm, my dad should arrive from work soon. It's time to feed the cats, give them the same shit they eat everyday, the same old cans of food that makes me gag every time I smell them. Luckily I don't need to use a can opener, which is good, because I don't have to face the shame of not knowing how to use one.

I open two cans, grab a fork, and pour the meat like substance onto their plates. I unlock the door, so my dad can come in and the cats with him too. We have 4 cats, 2 black and 2 black and white ones.

At 1:20pm the bus arrives at the stop at the end of the street, at 1:23pm the bus goes past my window, at 1:27 my dad opens the fence door, which I can hear from my room, since I don't have my headphones on. I feel a need to present myself as if I am doing something, so I grab the broom and start sweeping my room. My dad comes in.

„Hi…"

„..Hey..."

And that's that. We barely interact nowadays, but it's not like we had a strong relationship to begin with, same situation with my mother. I remember being shy around my parents from an early age, I never told them what's going on with me and when they would ask, it would annoy me.

I finish sweeping and empty the dust pan in my trash can. Put down the sweeping set and go back to my computer.

After changing from his work clothes, my dad walks past my room again, heading to the kitchen, not saying a word. He starts making food for himself. Probably making sandwiches, or maybe he's eating some leftover lasagna from yesterday.

When I made my breakfast I completely forgot about the leftovers. I was too sad to remember I suppose. It's too early for dinner, so I won't check if there's anything left.

How should I waste time until 4pm? I know! I'm going to check out some forums about normal people condemning the likes of me. Useless scum, that chose to withdraw from society instead of facing their inner demons.

Is this what people call doom scrolling? Sadly, despite being on the internet for the majority of my time I'm not exactly familiar with the current trends, and lingo. I just loop around the same stuff everyday mindlessly. After a few months I catch-up because I get bored, but that's it.

It's fine this way, I'm too overloaded to be up to date all the time anyways. Thinking about it,there's a certain sense of connection when I'm in the "let's catch-up on the latest things" kind of mood because at least, for a short period of time I don't feel so out of sync with the rest of mankind.But with that comes a spoonful of shame as well. Me, connected? If I can't connect with the real world, why would I deserve to connect on the net? Ridiculous, is it not? Truly, there's no winning here.

The only way this could be solved is by finally doing something about my situation, but when you spend close to a decade within the four walls of a room it becomes almost impossible. Imagine will power as a muscle, now imagine not using that muscle for anything at all, not even accidentally, for years. It is inevitable that one will experience severe muscle atrophy.

After scrolling for about half an hour I find an interesting post:

"How do people become Hikikomoris? I just can't fathom how can someone stay complacent for LITERAL years and blame society?!"

I bet it's another random college graduate, that thinks people have all the same backgrounds, opportunities and abilities and can achieve the same things as they did.

"Hikis are an extreme case of NEETdom, they mostly end up in their situation due to untreated mental health issues."

"I get that, but I don't get why they can't do anything about it :/

I also battle with depression and anxiety, it's an uphill battle everyday..

I can sympathise with their issues, but the fact that they turn to hate other people just bugs me..."

Battle with depression and anxiety, eh? Of course. Do people even know that it's a spectrum? Just like in a case of physical illness, it affects every people differently. Two people who have anxiety likely won't suffer to the same extent.

"What an asshole… I wonder what's on their profile"

Male, white, 28 years old, active on fitness related threads, has an engineering degree, married for 4 years.

"Oh, he even posted pics?"

Tall, masculine, chiselled jawline, looks great, his wife is pretty too. He posted a picture with his family too It's his father's birthday. The dad looks just like him, but a bit less tall and wrinkly like an apple left outside on a hot summer day, alone with the scorching sun.

Family home looks extravagant, dad and mom seemingly made it in life. There are many other people too, looks like a tight-knit family.

This guy probably never had to face anydifficulties in his life, yet he claims to suffer by such horrible afflictions such as anxiety and depression and posts about Hikis, blaming them for their situations.

Is this a joke? I wish I could live his life. I sink into my chair a little bit, daydreaming how my life could have been different. The life of a high school drop-out is nothing, but misery. Although, there exceptions, people that had plans, or a calling. I envy those fortunate souls.

But I have to admit, I had opportunities. I could have chosen to live a different life, but I didn't. Regret fills my lungs with each breath. My usual rumination session gets interrupted by light knocking on my door.

"Whaaaat?!"

"Alex, have you fed the cats?"

"I did."

"Are you sure? their plates were empty."

"Probably because they finished already. Check the table, 2 cans will be missing"

"Okay"

A minute or two passes when my dad comes back.

"You were right. And it smells bad in there, sorry for doubting you"

"No worries..."

He probably heard the irritation in my last response. I hope he doesn't think about it, I have no use for even more guilt.

"These people are just human dregs."

"I don't understand either lol. It's pretty pathetic tho"

"Sadly, not everyone is as privileged as you are :/"

"My brother is like this too. He's a spoiled incel, so I think most of these people are just whiners"

"While we are young we are treated equally, but in the real world it's all about survival of the fittest"

One thing is for sure, self-deprecation is one of the most underrated drug out there. It is very addictive to have people confirm your own warped sense of self.

I look in the corner of my screen to check the time. To my surprise it is pass 4pm already, 4:44pm to be exact.

When I open the kitchen door I see the empty baking tray soaking in the sink. I get frustrated and anxious. Since there is nothing left I grab a few buns, butter, salami and some cheese and make myself a perfectly unhealthy dinner and lock myself up in my room again.