Today, the world attacked me. “Hello,” it said as I crossed my legs. “Hello, this is the world.
“This is life.” In all its gory glory.
I’m pretty much to the point of general acceptance. “Okay, my plants are dead. Okay, my world is a mess. And all the universe gave me was an opportunity to move in with my mother.”
I read this poem the other day, and I will only relay a part. The important part:
“Imagine if a smile could make your day
because it meant someone saw your humanity.
Imagine if you made someone’s day
with your smile that recognizes their humanity.”
And you’re sitting there–or I’m sitting there–or we’re sitting there. And we’re across from a friend, simply sitting and having a beer. Where is the humanity? Who is this person across from us? They are a brother, a wife, a friend. Daily. But fundamentally, what? Who? An amalgamation of forgotten dreams? A ball of perceptions and impressions? No, not merely. Then what? This is our plague. The unknown answer to the question we forget to formulate, let alone ask.
I know so many people. I talk to so many people, and what does it mean? Do I know them? Do I recognize the miniscule yet indispensible traits that make them so unique and lovable? And if I do, what then? Does that even get me anywhere?
I do fear that it is that which is so unique and adorable (root: to adore) that we so often neglect in the day to day.
Or it is the deep seated story of a best friend before you know them that is so defining and yet unknown. This is humanity. Humanity begs for change, buys a beer, a carrot, a dog. It is what is so often forgotten as we retreat in our solipsist self-absorption. It is the unknown of those I know that hit me today. It was what I didn’t even know about myself.
And that’s–that’s–how my day was.