It has been joked about how Matthew is 'invisible' to most. He's more than a bit disregarded by other characters, but it unsettled a few prior experiences and emotions from a time I was disregarded. I figured he certainly couldn't have brushed things like these off all the time, so I will describe what he may have gone through to the best of my ability. In no way am I deliberately trying to degrade or generalize a character.
Matthew closed the door to his empty apartment quietly, closing off the chilly airs of autumn from his slightly less chilly dwellings. Stepping into his living room, he was greeted by the monotone atmosphere of ordinary furnishings, illuminated only by the dim, bluish light that arrived after the sunset. It filtered ever so slightly through translucent curtains.
This routine had become his habit by the null lifestyle that had drilled itself into his mind by now. He was certain he was fairly decent to his coworkers, but not of the reason why he was looked past so often. Day in and day out, his life carried on like a broken record. Eventually, Matthew was lost in the swarm of more distinguishable individuals. He swore he was lost in the background of his office, among the tapping of keyboards and the whirr of the ancient printer. His voice had become the accompaniment in a grand chorale, but not once the solo.
Not once had they acknowledged anything about him.
He was trapped in his head. His thoughts appeared to him, direct and clear, but they would reach nobody. They would return and pile up as sorrow and resignation, clouding his mind and spreading contagiously to his heart. What destroyed him, though, was the realization that he was frighteningly isolated. There was nothing he could do about it.
The anger came first.
White hot rage seared through Matthew's veins. The sensation contaminated his vision, and crawled sickeningly through his veins. Matthew's limbs and muscles tensed up, as if every ounce of his willpower was restraining him from lashing out as he paced the room briskly. Matthew's shoes made erratic clicks against the floor ... His breath turned short and quick, as if his body was attempting to cave in on itself. Taking in air became difficult, his emotions enclosing his lungs in an iron grip. He was stuck in a box of one way glass, and no matter how hard he would strain against the walls, he could do nothing more but struggle helplessly as he was passed by.
It was dizzying, Matthew's silent hysteria. The room spun around him, like some demented carousel made to torture his already strained mind. He leant against the cold wall, and sank slowly to the floor, trying to regain his bearings.
Soon enough, everything stilled. He shakily took in a deep breath. If anything, he was back where he started. Every day he would endure the blandness of existence, but his resilience was slipping away into the nothingness swallowing him.
He remained indifferent once again.
He could not even scream.