The city frowned upon me when I walked down my usual street. I knew they all had reason to hate me, but it was so long ago. I hoped at least one of them would think that I've changed or cleaned myself up in the slightest. Walking down this street was like walking my own red carpet as everyone’s curious eyes were glued to me. I was a bit of a local celebrity every morning. This was a big city, but the people sure made it seem smaller. Despite the reason they all looked at me, the attention was nice, making me feel less lonely than I am. Who was there to be my friend when everyone knows you have a bad name?

My daily walk of fame guided me to the only place that would accept my work. It paid what needed to be paid, but did not provide much else. The repetitive work of working in a newspaper press, doesn’t do favors to the part of your mind seeking excitement. This job was the primary source on how I stayed educated on the happenings of this city. Every now and then, I’d see my name plastered across the pages, outlining someone’s arbitrary complaint. I was mainly a target for people to blame whatever misfortunes they have on.

This was my life, every day, ever since what I did. I knew I was deserving of it, but it isn’t a life I’d recommend to anyone looking for a change. Nothing changed or was out of the ordinary. I waited for a something big to happen, as I wanted an opportunity to be experiencing something new. It's that feeling one gets their senior year of school, as they've seen everything there is to see, and ready to move on to something new.

I continued to read the headlines pressed every day, but nothing changed. I sought so much from the papers hoping to find resolution from it, even though it was just a piece of paper. I relied to much on the power of written word even though in the modern day, it can’t impact everyone as it used to be able to. If I wanted to find a real way out of this prison of eyes, I needed to take matters into my own hand. For many years, I thought of abandoning the city, but realized leaving this city would would make me even more isolated than I already am.  

The next morning, I was welcomed to my job with a headline that accused someone that wasn’t me. The name was foreign to me, as it was to everyone else. Did we have a new celebrity on our hands to ridicule and disown on the streets. The picture projected the stereotyped rugged and scarred schmuck, making me feel as if i were looking at a mirror. His name read, Edward Phillips, a name that was no work of art. I felt if they took me and slapped a fresh coat of paint on my image, listing someone else. I read further to see if he truly is the same person as me. His crimes consisted of nothing out of the ordinary as it was something absurd to punish, similar to my case. When living in such a perfect world, one little slip can be catastrophic. The paper I held in my hands reminded me of a time where I was in the same place, holding my own name in shame.

As soon as the paper reached everyone’s doorstep, I was nothing but a forgotten fad. Sure enough, the eyes were lifted from my sorry face, onto the next unfortunate soul. I reverted back to a state that I hadn’t lived in since my younger days. Although I was the only that could understand Edward Phillip’s agony, I couldn’t help but laugh as I no longer held the burden.

I continued with my job at the press despite my freedom. I had problems parting with my constant knowledge of the city. It would take awhile if I wanted to build a relationship with anyone, so for the time being, I remained where I was. No longer the subject, I observed Edward’s constant pain, paper by paper. I never met Edward, or saw him in the streets. He was new to this so it would make sense that he would hide, rather than show his face in public. I wanted to find him, just so I could see the look on someone else’s face. A familiar look that rested upon my face for so long. It wasn’t vengeance I was seeking, but it was satisfaction. To look at him and see why I was belittled for so long.

Sure enough, being a local celebrity, Edward was not hard to find. The more I pieced together his story, the more it resembled my life not long ago. Living where not a soul would live, avoiding the red carpet walk every morning and night, and working at any place that would take him. I roamed the streets without a single eye set upon my face, having a chance to meet the city again. I found Edward Philips hiding in his home at the end of the most secluded alley. The blinds were shut and the door was locked, giving a taste of how this was about to go down.

I knocked on the door violently, ensuring he would hear me. The door responded with silence and stood its ground. I continued to pound on the door, not resting my fist. After minutes of pounding, I shouted my name at the door. I rested, standing before the door, waiting for it to answer back. Sure enough, a twist of the lock sounded, and the door creaked open.

Phillips revealed his worn and sorry face, gazing directly at me with the faintest hint of hope in his expression. He croaked out, “you know what it's like, don't you?” I grinned slightly and let out a light chuckle. I responded, “you could say that.” “And I suppose you're hoping I’m gonna provide my wisdom saying there's a light at the end of the tunnel. The fact you messed up was a miracle, and was my rescue.” Edward looked defeated, and recoiled back inside. With no remorse I called out, “Now it’s your turn to be the fool.” He turned disgusted, and spat in my face. “You’re just like every other set of eyes that looks down upon me every day. So much for being a charity case a week ago.” The door met me within an inch of my face, cutting me off from Edward.

I carried on, and let Edward rot, as he was nothing to me. “Just like every other set of eyes that looks down upon me”? So I’m the one living in luxury among everyone else now? There's no way I’d ever be one of the rest, given my past. They had everything perfect, while I was still recovery from my time under the spotlight.

On my daily trek to the press, I took a closer look at the people surrounding me. Everytime they passed me, I examined their different faces. Overtime, they began to fade together. Turning a way for a moment, I thought against it as if they were telling me something I did not want to hear. I carried on, taking not another glance at the crowd.

Every day, I took a longer look at the crowd, understanding them more and more. Each face may have look definitive in it’s own way, but I saw the same thing. Each pedestrian wore a melancholy and regretful face, walking to whatever occupation wore them down. They had a face that had seen many things, forming what they are now. It made sense to me how it all worked in this city. Everyone has seen the side I have seen. At one point in their life, they felt singled out upon their mistake, and were the center of attention. Now each one walks a path of solitude, focusing on the one person with a distinct difference. Everyone is on their own and is more lonely that I ever was. For so long I felt singled out and alone, when it turns out, I had the most company. Edward now had all the attention in the world, and feared it.

There was no chance of me getting to him after our meeting, and there was nothing I could do, even if I had the chance to reach him. Upon my realization, I felt it only better to let Edward be. It's out of my hands, as well as his hands for that matter. Sitting in the spotlight before the entirety of this city, facing belittlement, will be the only attention you will ever receive, even if you are left alone.