Subway at rush hour. Pressed in. Completely enveloped. Not even my bag could fit between. Dozens of people. All staring down. The phone glow reflecting on their faces. No sound. Except the train itself. A low hum. And the occasional jolt. Everyone just… there. Not looking at each other. Not even looking away. Blank. Absorbed. And me too. Just another body. Another commuter. Just another face illuminated by a screen. But for a second… I looked up. Over the sea of heads. And it hit me. How utterly… isolated. How alone. In a space so PACKED. It was a cognitive dissonance. A paradox. It felt like an almost complete depersonalization. Like I wasn’t even there. Or they weren’t. Or we were all just… phantoms. Passing through. Is this normal? This feeling? This… anomie? My parents, back home, they call every week. Asking about marriage. Kids. How my job is. They want details. They want connection. And I just… I can’t give it. Because what even is it? Here? On this train? It’s not loneliness, not exactly. More like… a complete absence of recognition. A void. And the weirdest part is I almost prefer it. This nothingness. It’s easier sometimes. To just… be a part of the hum.