I am the snow of an old TV

Set to a channel which is off the air 

I speak in white noise 

And I appear as the black and whites pixels on the screen 

Always shifting, never constant 

Sometimes a haunting calm 

Others an annoying, dull roar 

 

I am that person you glance at 

In the streets, in the halls, in the store 

That person whose face you see, and 

For the barest moment, 

Less than a second, really, 

You are lost in a confusing sonder 

Until you are swept away and I am not even a memory 

 

I am that not-memory of yours

The person whom you've noticed but don't 

You know not a thing about the person 

That inhabits my mind and compels me to write this 

The one who has their own life

The one with their own memories and experiences 

The one with their own hardships and downfalls

 

I am irrelevant to you 

I do not make a change in your life by my simple existance 

Nor do I fill you with a sense of purposefulness

I am not the antagonist of your story 

I do not exist in your tale as a placeholder for an abstract 

I make no impact 

And I am content to be none of those things 

 

And as I am nothing to you 

You are nothing to me