FEEL

6. Sonder

Sonder ~ the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

Nobody had ever looked smart while under the influence. I wonder why people enjoyed indulging in drugs and liquor. It baffles me how one would willingly subject themselves to the state of stupendous inebriation, unable to control their actions or retain any vivid memories thereafter. To lose control like that, for recreational purpose-deliberately. And then to call it "Fun".

Andre isn't here. One of his friends had walked me in, a dark young fellow with short afro hair who asked me what a girl like me wanted in such a place. I had to hide my scowl as I remembered what Andre said yesterday, about me looking child-like and naive. All it took was mentioning his name and I was let in.

So much is happening, but at the same time, nothing. People are dancing, others aren't. There's a game happening on the kitchen counter where people would toss little balls into cups filled with a liquid I assume is alcohol that piques my curiosity, but I have to refocus on looking for Andre. Being by myself in this space doesn't feel safe.

It scares me that most people here are out of their minds, intoxicated. Walking around with half a mind, with wilder versions of themselves.

It took some time of just observing them and wondering what had made them such fools to succumb to this behavior when I came to the conclusion that I couldn't judge a surface reflection.

These were people with their own lives, a life beyond my comprehension. One that wasn't mine, with a brain functioning differently from mine that processes their emotions and environment disparately as well. In that sense, we are all alike but dissimilar. That we can all feel, but not feel the same things. That we can all think, but not in a similar way. That we can all hear and see things but the way in which we interpret them is various and nuanced and infinite. How we're all on the same planet but living in our own world.

To think that coming here towards 9PM, the party would have died down, but it was still lively. In fact, it seems to have just started. I'm shuffling around aimlessly, unable to find Andre anywhere despite having been invited by him. It feels like disrespect of some sort, to invite someone somewhere and then be nowhere in sight to greet them when they come.

I was done with it all and heading to the door when someone caught my arm, pulling me towards them. I hit the wall inside a small hallway that leaded towards the bedroom, a relatively empty space save for the couple making out not too far ahead.

The panic within me is brief. I hear his voice before I see his face. “Aquila,” he drags.

I finally get a good look at Dre. High, drunk or both. Eyes bloodshot, but his body was rigid and he seemed full in control of it.

“Hey, Andre,” I greet him back politely, with slight apprehension. Intoxicated people scare me. They're impulsive and incapable of rational thinking. That was a human in their most dangerous form.

He shakes his head, “Call me Dre.”

“Don't you like your name, Andre?”

“That name,” he hiccups. “That name is the one my old man uses when I'm in deep shit. Call me Dre, Aquila. We're friends, aren't we?”

Hes getting close enough for me to conclude that whatever concoction he swallowed up was strong and deliberate. He glanced down at my outfit, running his eyes along my entire body. I don't move, I'll wait him to make way first. I don't know how he might react if I make the slightest move.