“You look like you want to say something.” We've been sitting here for a few minutes since he unexpectedly followed me.
“I’d say tonight went alright.” I worried about how poorly I might handle all the social situations. Even though my regular clothes made me look less impressive and my social skills weren’t great, I think everything else was fine. I’d rather remain in a more serene environment though.
“Even when I showed up?” I was going to agree with him, but then I recalled that I should consider his intentions as honest, at least that’s what I believe for now. “On a more serious note, what about tonight?” He asked with a sense of wonder.
“It's just that I tend to anticipate the worst in every situation.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Honestly, you don't strike me as that kind of person, you seem quite the opposite.” I only said that because he doesn’t know me yet but is already assuming I’m lonely and seeking someone to talk to.
“Hey, I don’t have every answer myself.” I’m aware that I don’t usually open up to someone I hardly know, let alone imagine myself venting to him tonight, but I needed to show myself that tonight wasn’t a disappointment. His appearance won’t bother me instantly because that would spoil my night. “I really thought you were from somewhere else because I’m sure I haven’t seen you before.”
“Why, is it necessary for you to know everyone here?” He realize that my question is reasonable.
“I only thought you were new around here, that’s all.” A few seconds of silence followed. “What was going on the last time I saw you? You know, when I followed you.”
“It was just like any other day. Bad day.” It's hard to show vulnerability whether with a stranger or a friend. I often find myself in a strange and frustrating predicament. Even though I desperately want to share my thoughts and feelings, saying the right words always seems just out of reach. He’s already seen me at my lowest, so how could what I say now make a difference? “The only person I'm left with in this world doesn't communicate with me and I feel. . . so alone in everything.”
If this stranger, who knew me only in that fleeting moment of weakness, could be so empathetic, perhaps there was more to gain from sharing my thoughts and feelings than I had previously believed. The silence that followed made me think he was surprised, as if waiting for me to say more. “I mean, we already talked but, it's just. . . it wasn't enough.” I imagined conversations filled with advice, shared experiences, or mutual insight. It’s not that there’s animosity or a lack of care—rather, there seems to be an unbridgeable gap between what I hope for and what we actually achieve in our interactions. I find myself hoping for profound discussions or moments of shared insight, but what often occurs are brief, surface level exchanges that leave me feeling unfulfilled. There are times when I wish he could read between the lines of my words, understand my deeper needs, and engage in a way that resonates with me.
“I’m sorry about that. The first time I saw you, I felt you were carrying a heavy feeling but I didn’t realize the weight was this significant until now.” It’s possible he’s using this as a way to apologize for interrupting me before.
“That’s why I’m relieved to have felt some positivity tonight, even if it was only temporary.” I shifted my tone to be more optimistic so the conversation wouldn’t seem as gloomy as I intended. It felt relieving to express this since I’ve never shared it with Laurel before and she’ll probably be jealous when she finds out.
“Then why did you have to leave so soon?” He wondered.
“If I ever want to stay up late, it would be in my bedroom.” He let out a brief chuckle.
“That explains why I never see you around, you just stay home.” He smiled right away when he figured it out.
“You know, I really don't want to accept that my life has been filled with terrible experiences but it seems to be true, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” When bad things keep happening, it’s easy to start believing that this is just the way things are. I’ve felt that my experiences have shaped my outlook, leading me to think that all I’m destined to face are struggles and disappointments. It’s like a feedback loop where each new difficulty makes me feel even more resigned to a future filled with more of the same.
“Well, I believe that it's never too late for everything, Cari. And I also don't believe that every moment was terrible.” I often find myself lost in a memory of a joyful experience, only to have it fade into the background of my mind, leaving behind a bittersweet sense of longing. The fact that they fade away makes me cherish them even more, knowing that they were a unique and irreplaceable part of my life. However, there’s also a certain sadness in how quickly these moments can slip through my fingers. It’s as if, despite my efforts to hold on to them, they gradually lose their vividness, leaving only a distant echo of what once was. This fading away can make me feel as though I’m losing a part of myself, a part that was once so alive and real.
“I can't really think of a good one.” I turned to look at him.
“What about right now?” I glanced away to sidestep the reality that being with him right now is considered a good thing. I nearly laughed at his response but instead a tear rolled down my cheek. I despise myself for this moment because I had promised not to let anything spoil my evening. I turned away from him since I couldn’t stop crying, and I now feel too embarrassed to even face him. I should probably come up with an excuse and leave before I end up regretting this. Before I had the chance to speak, he handed me his napkin. “Keep it.” I was hesitant at first but I eventually agreed to take it from him.
“I should go, it's getting late.” We both got up from our seats and I awkwardly dabbed at my tears with his napkin. “Thanks.”
“Everything will be alright, Cari. It might not be today or tomorrow, but it will.” I heard what he said and started to walk off without saying a word. This wasn’t how I anticipated my night would end, nor did I expect this person to be who I’d end up talking to.
