It took me a while before I got the hang of it. What am I talking about? Well, of course, a disreputed form of borrowing. Honestly, it is not quite that bad for the one who's doing it. The only trick is to be invisible, which, in some ways, I am.

At first, I stole trinkets only close to midnight. This was, of course, only because I was too cautious. It was difficult to target people at night because they made themselves scarce. Then I expanded my region of operation and realized that I could do it in broad daylight without getting caught. Soon, I went into shops, donning their finest in the dressing room and walking out. Of course, even with their clothes on, they still lost me.

When I got bolder, I stole a bright red convertible and openly drove it around.

Even then, I remained on the loose. I seemed to have gained a superpower with the curse: whatever I touch transforms into something that was mine. It was Nobody's. But then came the desperation. What went unresolved was that I wanted them to acknowledge my existence. It was a cry for help.

With each stolen item, my heart screamed: See me! Please, somebody, see me!

But I am Nobody. In this world, only somebodies get acknowledged.

At that time, I was unaware of the turbulence inside of me. Instead, I thought that it was my juvenescence. It was exhilarating. Somehow, I made myself believe that the curse had set me free.

My mother would topple over into her grave if she ever saw my antics, and my father would most definitely disown me; it barely mattered anymore.

Nursing my wounded heart with my impetuous actions, I found myself a place to live.

Of course, it could hardly compare to the mansion I lived in with my family, but it was mine and proudly so. It was also much better than the rough gravel beneath my skin when I slept on the streets.

It was in an abandoned site. I'd read in the newspaper that the project, a beautiful mall, had been discontinued. Anyway, it might seem somewhat scary that I decided to live in an abandoned place, but that was much better than the alternative--- buying an apartment and walking up the next day with the owners knocking on your door, accusing you of trespassing. It was a theory that I was uninterested in proving. Knock yourselves out with your own theories if you will.

It was strange that the site had a few scattered homeless people around.

They kept their distance from me, and I reciprocated with ease.

After finding a place to settle, I decided to clean myself quite a bit. I sold the red convertible and received a hefty price. I might have inconvenienced the seller a bit since the vehicle was found to be stolen afterwards.

Being Nobody meant that he trusted me blindly.

Anyway, with the hard cash, I bought myself a mattress and some nice clothes.

I've realized that having a place to settle, to call home, is like a tether that binds you to your humanity. A place that you feel safe in is of utmost importance if you want to remain a virtuous person. If you're lucky, that place could just be you. If it's the opposite, you'll latch onto a place or a person.

This thought somewhat disorients my life thus far. Was it only because of my parents that I was kind? That I was unfettered by problems? That I had the ability to dismiss everything as trivial and grin as though all that mattered in the world was being happy?

All of these rang true in my head as I felt their effects. The desire to be clean. The desire to donate some of my hard-earned savings. The desire to smile and use the muscles of my face, which had gone stiff from all the blows the world rained down upon me. The weariness that had seemed to have slipped into my bones began to dissipate.

My home lacked some warmth, but it was a place I called mine, so I loved it regardless.

My clothes were coarse and lacked elegance, but they were all mine, so I loved them regardless.

In the past, I favored a tailored suit; it gave me a regal air. However, since I became Nobody, I became the kind of person who'd go to a ballroom party in pajamas. I might've started despising suits from then on.

A wild transformation, I know.

There was a minor hiccup, though. Sometimes, when I was away doing my own thing, people would sneak in and sleep. I handled the matter beautifully, if I might say so. I did it by writing on a large cardboard: Nobody lives here. That was it! End of the problem. When I returned, I returned to a made bed and my clothes intact.

When one has satisfactory food and lodging, one has time to think of other things. For instance, a permanent companion.

After a month, the novelty of having a home wore off, and I began to yearn for someone. You might want to hear a story that goes somewhat like this: I met a pretty girl. Stumbled and then fell head over heels for her. Wooed her with all my might. Buy her nice things like flowers, clothes, or books. Appeased with my dedication, she would soften herself but still play hard to get. I would then double up in my wooing. And then finally, she would fall in love with me too. We'd get married. Have kids. Raise the kids well enough that they become upstanding citizens of the nation. And then one of us dies early from some bizarre disease, and the other follows them to the deathbed because of heartbreak.

Impressive story. Might make me cry if I ever read a book or saw a movie with this kind of plot.

For those who feel left out, you can change the pronouns however you like. Knock yourselves out for all I care because that is far from my story. So far... like the ends of the earth.

I've never looked for someone to get married to; it's a lie. Even if I say it to your face, just ignore me because it's untrue. I've always wondered what it would be like to live with a person. Like mother and father used to.

I did find a girl. Or more precisely, a girl found me, but it's quite different from what you're thinking.