On The Outside

New place with a population density that could strangle gravity itself, and yet it still finds a way to be oddly charming. People have their moments of eye contact, quick glances and smiles. Basic politeness with a lack of true conversation. Just a little “Hello, how are you?” With no further dialogue. Human eyes glued to their phones and while most people are shoulder to shoulder, they ignore those closest to them, like the introvert at a party. It’s unusually packed for a city with heavy rain, but at least the sound of the rain is drowning out the traditional noises of cars, people and construction on the busy streets. As much noise as there is in these streets, nothing and everything can be heard at the same time. Each individual voice and thought are drowned out by each other, each of them desperate to be heard. These small moments of slight interaction might be all that someone needs to keep going in the physical work machine, while for some it isn’t enough and they are left with a void where the conversation should be. Those in the void are left as ghosts of what could be and they continue their stroll, shoulder to shoulder, through the city scene. After a few hours, the rain stops and the busy street ambience continues. These sound nothing like the movies make them out to be. You can hear the usual noises, but when you listen closer, there is an unnatural hum circulating through the air. The hum of an electrical age. The combination of the electric humming of street lights, digital billboards and cars, combines into a hypnotic tune that most people don’t notice. People like me notice it, because at the heart of things, I’m the only one who’s really listening. 

Now that the rain has stopped, the slower walking of the many becomes the few and people continue on their normal, fast pace to wherever they are going. Some get tripped up with the newly formed puddles, avoiding the water like it’s infectious, while the rest stomp through it without a care. I listen carefully to the open air and I can hear exactly where the rain has gone. Even if it’s just a street or two over, now it’s raining somewhere else. Almost immediately, there is  a fender bender nearby and the air begins to fill with drama, as the two drivers strike up an aggravated conversation. I watch on, curious to the idea of a fight breaking out and I’m not the only one. Others have slowed their pace to listen and when the commotion dies down, so does their interest. In the journey of people watching, you see interesting characters that strive to be different from the rest. Some do it with the way they walk and some do it with their outspokenness in public. Many of them however, seem to reach out in those quick, one-sided conversations that I spoke of earlier, which of course ends with nothing. No satisfaction of a human reaction and this just leaves most people discouraged. That is a sensation I am too familiar with. Rising from my seat, I pace down a few blocks and find a park. There is a slight fear that people watching at a park can warrant some questionable stares, but for the sake of science I sit on a bench anyway and take in the atmosphere. It is less crowded here, but the population is still stifling. What’s more concerning is how many people there are in comparison to lose running children and I find myself looking out for shady characters. I see a man sitting along across the playground like myself, and he seems to be watching the children as they play. I feel suspicion growing in my chest, until a couple of children run up to the man directly and he stands up, taking their hands and begins walking with them. Some part of me remains curious and I watch further. My suspicions remained until a woman joined the small group with drinks in hand and then the family of four left the park together. I lean back on the bench, journal in hand and continue to write about the atmosphere. The chaotic nature of kids playing can rack the nerves of many adults, but for some it is that carefree nature that they yearn for. “Oh to be young again,” as some like to say. As I sit in my solitude, a young woman sits on the same bench as me and I can tell by her body language that she is questioning my motives for being here. I don’t blame her. Most people are suspicious of grown men at parks and even I was guilty of the same thoughts. I look at her and nod, giving a gentle smile. She smiles back and looks away, but I can feel the edge of a conversation on her lips. Some part of me understands that feeling. Reaching out any level of emotions to someone you don’t know can feel strange, even if it is basic conversation. I decide to take my leave, but as I stand the woman looks at me again. I smile at her and decide to open the door to dialogue. “Have a nice day, miss.” She just nods, seeming surprised by a simple gesture, yet she does not stop me from walking away, or try to continue the conversation. 

I guess I cannot hold it to people too much. I too have trouble connecting with others. Most of my life has been like living on the other side of glass. Like living on the outside. Everyone else is inside and they continue their lives without stumbling, while most of my steps are consecutive trips over my own lack of confidence. As I continue down the street, I’m once again met with shoulder to shoulder zombies, each person shifting forward and backward in their own little worlds. As I near the edge of a street corner, I see a delicate little coffee shop, which is one of my favorite things. Before I step through the door, the rain comes back and the air is once again drowned out with the sound of the rain falling on every surface. Inside the cozy shop, I sit down and now take in the comfortable atmosphere on the other side of my cup of coffee. In the same room, there is a couple at a table, sitting intimately close and you can tell by their expressions that they are in their prime. All the butterflies in the stomach and the rest of the cheesy stuff that people like me hope for. I instinctively reach for my ring finger, where the indentation of the former occupant is still left behind and the couple triggers echoes of former feelings that were never forgotten. As I finish my coffee, I leave this little shop behind and continue my life on the outside.