He once thought that he was not living, that the world was passing him by, and that he was just an observer.
He didn't participate in social activities. When he felt lonely and bored, he would lean on the window of his room, overlooking the bustling streets outside, the bustling crowds, and stare blankly, lost in thought for a while.
He was used to standing on the edge of the crowd, looking far away at this strange and lively world, and then falling into one fleeting fantasy and dream after another.
When he was young, he felt as if there was an invisible wall separating him from the people around him. He had tried to blend in with them, had strongly desired to live like them, but all attempts ended in failure.
Later, he realized that he was indeed living. Being outside the crowd, on the edge of the world, even if he did nothing, it still counted as a kind of life. Besides, he could do some things.
Now he has accepted all of this and no longer tries to change it.