The Invisible Man: Fantasy

I'm becoming less defined as days go by. This is--a strangely fascinating process, to me at least. To everybody else, I suppose it's the exact opposite since you don't see me as much or as often or, let's face it, as me. I think. Part of me thinks that I’ll end up being nothing because of this whole process. Another part of me thinks that I'll eventually let all the peripheral parts of myself turn into mist that blows away to reveal the real hard bedrock of who and what I really am, and maybe the mists will enclose about me to confuse everyone, like an island in the fog, or maybe the mist will be gone forever and the truth of who I am will burn so brightly that people will start wearing sunglasses at night. Heh. I see that even if much about me is becoming less defined, my tendency towards hyperbole is unassailed. I don't know. I go to a restaurant these days, and I stare at the menu for an hour because I can't remember what I like or don't like or if it's even important. It doesn't really matter, though, since more than half the time the waitress won't even be able to see me to take my order. Or she sees me, rather, but doesn't find it interesting. In the end, the last time I went out, I just walked into the kitchen and lifted a plate and carried it back out with me to eat. I think the chef might have seen me when I touched the plate, but as soon as I lowered it below the level of his counter, I became--not invisible, but unimportant to him again.


Inspiration: "Only (Richard X Mix)" - Nine Inch Nails
Story potential: Medium
Notes: Could be a character, if supported by stronger characters. Not a story-carrier on his own.