I hate you

1

Meet Arthur Fleck

Arthurʼs pov

I walked from work, threw the same alley like everyday. It's boring. The depressed atmosphere.. But maybe it's just me.

I got jumped again. Twice today. Why do some people have the need to do this? Does it make them feel better? Are they that damaged, they let out their anger at another person? But..
I consider myself as highly damaged.
I was always the odd one- the weirdo.
I would never bully anyone. Why is that?

Maybe it's my curiosity. Or my little hope in this world. Or the way I act towards others even though they wouldn't act like that with me. And that's another thing. Why do I have to be so nice to everyone? I swear one day I'm just gonna-

Boom.

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts, as I tripped. Like an idiot. My cheeks turned a bit red from embarrassment, however I picked myself up from the stairs, ignoring the chuckles and stares from other people. I sighed.

But as quickly as I snapped out of my head, I quickly snapped back in.

I am clumsy. I mean, I am the definition of man, who would never ever earn a close friend. Or get a relationship. I never thought of getting a relationship. That was something I didn't believe in.

But then again, I'm an easy person to impress. All you have to do is to be nice to me. Or understand me. Or talk to me decently.

If I ever found someone who would listen to me, understand me, understand my whole story, my mental illness, my suffering, no matter if it's a male or female, I'd literally be able to marry them.

I'm overthinking and exaggerating again.

"Hey," I greeted the caretaker with my usual shy tone and checked the mailbox. Nothing was there as usual.

Walking to the elevator, I pressed button that led to my apartment pretty fast. I didn't need assholes in this elevator with me today.

___

"Happy, did you check the mailbox?"

"Yes, ma." I called out and sat next to her, giving her the food I just prepared.

She was looking at the TV. The news were going on, so I also peeked to the TV.

"Be careful out there, Happy. There's this clown killing people. It's dangerous out there."

I rolled my eyes at her. It's dangerous out there either way.

"What clown?" I asked.

"Thomas Wayne mentioned him. They call him The Joker."

"Oh. Don't worry. I'm careful."

I didn't take this conversation seriously. I thought The Joker was someone she made up in her mind because.. I never heard such a name. But my brain couldn't shake it off. There was something about it.. If he was real, I'd love to know more about him.

If The joker is a criminal.. Just by the name they call him, he must be broken. And why would he even kill people? For fun? Money? Revenge?

C'mon, Arthur. Shut your thoughts down. None of this can be real.

None of this can be real.