In my month of transitioning from the wintry northeast to the slow movement of the south, I’ve realized that I am surrounded by constant evasiveness. There are signs on the school bus that direct us to read the school newspaper app, in order to avoid awkward eye contact. But, why have we characterized second glances as uncomfortable and intrusive? If anything, I’m troubled by the sight of watching twenty-year-olds text imaginary friends to abstain from saying hello.
It wasn’t until a coworker of mine got killed that I realized the ephemerality of every moment. Of course, there are euphemisms to cradle death, but I think it’s important to acknowledge how cruel and untimely life can be. We are so incredibly sheltered and taking every moment for granted, thinking that we will always be given something more, another chance. Instead of saying hello, we are self-indulged in a better, romanticized virtuality where “awkward eye contact” doesn’t exist and, instead, we are able to take our inadmissible actions and justify them with suitable motives. We are living in a constant state of fear and anxiety, and we are fallaciously believing that we are protected by an opportunity that we convince ourselves will later arise.
I am not an outlier by any means. I keep my social media up to par because, I will unabashedly admit, it makes me feel important and partially keeps my self-esteem from dwindling. I’ll habitually text before I’ll call because I want the safety and leverage of being able to analyze what I say, before it is interpreted by others. Like everyone, I am afraid of rejection and delving into the unknown; I keep myself comfortable and secure where I am almost certain I will remain unscathed.
When I found out that my coworker had been shot the night of his birthday, I thought about all of the times I had refrained from saying, “I love you,” to friends, family and jilted lovers, having convinced myself that that was the right thing to do. Had I silenced the solicitude, would I have taken opportunity of the transient moment instead?
There have been many times that I have not said hello, that I have not told someone that I loved them when I whole heartedly did. Innumerable occasions of being confined by worry and woe, inuring myself to fear and being self-assured that I would stay safe and unharmed there.
On the bus ride home from work, I watched every passenger smirk at their phone, look up to think of a witty response, and then fixate their sight back to the screen. Others scrolled through social media feeds, shuffled through songs, or obeyed the sign that instructed them to avoid awkward eye contact.
All the while, I thought of what it was like to be afraid, sheepish hellos, and irrevocable words that made me exposed and vulnerable. I thought about fleeting moments and contingencies that I had ignored, convincing myself that later would be more preferable and that now was not the time. I had shied away from my actuality and kept myself sheltered in an entity that was delusive, having the courage to assert myself only when it was too late and the passing moment was gone.
