AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...!

He screams on forever.

But is he screaming literally? No, he’s just screaming inside so that no one will be bothered. The stress still gripples him, you know. And why does he have stress you ask? Because of all the current state of things that are happening right now in his life. He feels cold, barren, and silent, with just the young age of 42 years old while living in a condo southeast of downtown. He has no family, no job, and if he doesn't pay his taxes soon, he’s not gonna have a life very soon.

It's a bit too late to fix everything if you ask me. But can he fix almost everything? If he wanted too, then he could. But then again, you might never know for sure if he can even try.

His name is Bryan. Bryan is just a man. He walks, he talks, he sees, he eats, and obviously, he drinks. He lives on the 3rd floor of an apartment building almost every day looking down on the ground with sorrow.

He doesn't think much, but when he does it mostly is “Dear god, I should pay the water bill.” or “Why do I even live here?”, or other times, like earlier, he just screams inside of himself with nobody to see. But why nobody, if he has no one? Surely, he must have neighbors or for the most part, the internet, right? Well let’s just say Bryan is a bit of a pessimist. Perhaps too pessimistic. “Why do I do this?”, he thinks.

I try to knock on his door, but of course, he doesn't respond. I do it again, but louder. He then opens the door and it looks like he threw up his own soul. His shirt looks as if he’s been sweating a lot, but I know very well that’s not the case. His shorts look like they were bought from a discount store, and his hair implies that Bryan hasn't showered well over a week.

“Hello?”, he said to me in an annoyed tone. “Hello sir”, I say in what I like to call “ a tone of heartily-felt goodness”, “I was wondering, do you need any help?”. “What help?” he says in the same annoyed tone.

“You know, motivation…or perhaps building your self-esteem”

“Are you implying that I’m insecure about my day-to-day life?”, he says angrily, as if he knows what I’m talking about.

“No sir, no” I say, trying to calm things down, “I just wanna make sure things are ok”.

“Things were very OK for me.” he says, “What didn’t made me OK was YOU SNOOPING ON ME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT IF I'M APPARENTLY MOODY OR NOT SO YOU CAN PROFIT OFF OF IT FOR YOU AND YOUR GOODY-TWO SHOES GROUP!”.

I look upon him startled as he breathes heavily from his rage. He then sighs.

“Look”, said Bryan in a now calmer tone “I just don’t want you coming near my house, ok? I’ve got a whole lot of things to worry about and I don’t want you to become one of them. So please, don’t knock on my door again.”