He’s different, he knows it. He regards the world in a different sense, an outsider’s view. Where others see ugliness, he sees beauty. Ordinary objects fascinate him; the ivy creeping over a brick wall, a forlorn pair of shoes hanging over a telephone wire, a bottlecap.
And people. He sees people in a way that the average person would never be able to. He observes their faces, their actions, the slightest twitch of the mouth. He can see a sadness that no one else can see, the kind of sadness that comes from being in a world of people, yet being utterly alone. He wishes he could comfort these people, tell them that they are not alone. He wants to help. But he feels trapped in his own world, seperated from the rest.

He sits down beside a girl on the street, leaning up against a rundown old building.

“Why must it be like this?”

“We cannot know happiness if we have no comparison.” She sighed and leaned her head back. “Someone must always suffer.”