The speaker, apparently named Rishi, looks back on the life his parents mapped out for him: doctor, economist, "somebody." He went along with it for a while, more out of respect than desire, and the poem suggests he could have played any part they handed him. But what he wanted was to be nobody, free of roles, and to be loved without conditions. He admits he wanted a lot and tried very little, hoping things would simply grow.
University left him feeling emptier, and cleaning becomes the one thing that quiets his mind. The supermarket feels special to him, even while an inner voice mocks it as "just a supermarket, kid."
The mood is restless and quietly sad, with flashes of dry humour. The short, plain lines make it sound like a confession. The final two lines drop the big questions about identity into a messy, ordinary moment: a tannoy call and an aisle "filled with sick."