We forget that we are all people
Sometimes, I forget that other people are just like me — brought into this world by pure chance, without having a say in it, with a set of privileges and opportunities determined by luck.
They’re people who also get tired, have good days, bad days, even worse days, and days that change their lives forever—the lives they never asked for.
They don’t like working either, though sometimes they feel good while doing it. They don’t want to talk to anyone when words aren’t enough to express themselves, and they daydream whenever life’s complications allow them to.
I forget that the millions of people who share this world also want to win, hate losing, and have thoughts they wish they didn’t have. They feel sadness, and happiness, think often about their loved ones, and feel guilt when they remember the harm caused by their mistakes.
Just like me, they want to be on time, and sometimes, they want to be first. Some days, they don’t care when they arrive, only that they do.
They also get angry when they witness life’s injustices. They grit their teeth when they have no choice but to swallow their frustration, and they smile warmly when they think of the person they love.
They have secrets they’ve never told anyone, details on their bodies that only a few know about, and a favorite animal they once had as their desktop wallpaper.
They’ve felt embarrassed after spilling something on themselves during a date, gotten nervous before a job interview, missed the pet that was by their side in childhood, and—no matter how hard they try—can’t forget the moment they were first rejected.
They fight to achieve their dreams. They want to visit Japan, see the Great Wall of China, touch the ocean, and feel snow for the first time. At some point, they wanted to be astronauts, comic book artists, write a novel, or speak in front of thousands. They wanted all the attention. They wanted to be rock stars and travel the world, living in excess.
They pick their noses when (they think) no one is looking, scratch their butts, play with their genitals, pull at their hair, and eat junk food way more often than they should.
They fantasize about what they’d do if they had all the money in the world, dream of their ideal home—a garden like the one they imagined as kids — and fall into self-destructive habits when life becomes too overwhelming.
They envy, desire, despise, remember, help, receive, hate, taste, curse, throw up, cry, give thanks, leave, return, die, live.
I forget that they are people just like me, trying to navigate the overwhelming experience of being alive.
This post was inspired by the waiter who gave me bad service today at the wing restaurant I went to with A and C. It was the end of his shift, and his face told us, at all times, that he didn’t want to be there anymore, waiting tables. He forgot something we asked for, and when he brought the food or when we thanked him, he didn’t say a word.
The waiter has no idea, but he made me reflect on how little empathy we often have for others — because our own POV, and our own worries, make us forget that everyone else is just a person, like us.
I get you. Thanks for reading.