Today I want to talk about a young man that probably  was completely forgotten long ago, except for his family, because he walked in this world like a pale shadow. When I knew about his story, moved something deep inside of me, maybe because I understood him, maybe because I can recognize some parts of me on it, maybe because we had sort of similar lifes, maybe because we felt the same. But it’s just maybe. That’s why this story is still stuck in my memory and time by time, I happen to think about it for a bit.

This guy I’d like to talk about lived near my home village, in the next town. Although he was still young, he had spent most of his time as teenager and young adult studying and got a difficult college degree among others qualifications. Despite this, I don’t know exactly why, he worked in the same factory as my father, doing a job which doesn’t require qualification, and gaining little money compared to the amount he could have got. He lived with his parents too, but was a responsible son and gave them almost his whole salary every month, not directly,  he just left it on the kitchen table so his mother would find it. No one had any complaint about him. But all people agree he was a highly intelligent person, almost a genius.

He seemed to be a good person, but he had a problem: he was completely alone. I don’t know the reason why, it seems was a personal choice, which seems unlikely, or maybe he couldn’t find a real connection with anyone. He didn’t have girlfriend, friends or colleagues. He didn’t talk to anyone, maybe a bit with his parents since they lived in the same house, but not much. I remember my dad talking about him, he said he just waved “Hello” at the beginning of the work day and then remain in silence for the rest. When he got home, he went directly to his room and locked himself inside to study for the rest of the day or the night.

I know what he felt, because I used to live like that and, well, it hasn’t change that much for me after all. Maybe, while he was studying, got a sudden desperation and reach for his computer, surfing the Internet looking for his long lost connection, looking for something indeterminate, looking for comprehension. Sometimes, he drowned in his own lust for life. Maybe what the modern world can offer wasn’t enough to calm his soul. Maybe he thought he would never find someone who loved and understood him. Maybe he realized that all his life was going to be the same, that he hated it, that he couldn’t take it anymore, that there wasn’t any hope left for him. I don’t know exactly what was going on his mind in those moments. I wonder if someone could have done something about it, something to skip it, a smile may have changed things. I wonder what if I knew him, maybe I would understand and help him. But now it’s too late. One morning, as he hadn’t got up for work, his mother entered the room and found him lying dead in a puddle of blood. He killed himself. He fade away in the silence of night,  like if he was ashamed of his pain, all alone, completely desparate, and I’m sure he didn’t deserve it at all.

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