"But there really wasn't anything in my head worth saying out loud."

He is used to his life feeling as if he is just a spectator in a movie. Or a photographer watching through a lens.

Artyom Stepanenko is a photographer from Yekaterinburg whose diagnosis of "mild depersonalization" doesn't get in the way — rather, it helps him work: shooting weddings, corporate events, and once a commissioned session at double his rate. He is twenty‐seven, sometimes freelances at Chiaroscuro for his ex‐girlfriend, has a perpetually tired face, a mortgage in his plans, and a vape within reach.

He is not arrogant, not displeased, not bored, not indifferent. Just quiet, outwardly unemotional, carries on a monologue in his thoughts, and doesn't like to cook. His friends understand him, his mother worries about his lack of a wife, his father grumbles about psychologists. And Artyom himself goes to Anna Borisovna once every two weeks — not to get treatment, but to talk. She listens. He is fine with that.

He sees life as someone else's movie. A movie in which he is definitely not the main actor. Because he is just the photographer.

P.S. Two introductions: one in first person and one in third person. I suggest trying first person, because it creates a vibe that matches his character and his position as an observer.