Against invisibility

What to do when you are attracted to someone who is sitting and facing you on the train? Do you try not to gaze in her direction? But it’s so hard to write and every time I stop typing to contemplate the next word I type, I always look up, my gaze shifts from my computer. It’s my habit. And when I look up, I see her facing me and I worry that she thinks I am staring at her. If I made her feel uncomfortable, I would feel horrible about that. It would be the worst. So I try to focus on the door, on the exit sign. But who am I kidding?

The workdays pass by without feeling, without desire or longing. Only absence of feeling, desire and longing. What does one do when they emerge and one has to suppress? The one time all week one feels anything? I wish I knew. Why is everything so misplaced?

Another strange thing. People have told that when I am speaking to them, I often look down, as if I am avoiding their gaze. I’ve been rejected by jobs because this happens in situations where I am uncomfortable, such as an interview. Or dinner with my family.

And now when I look up, I see she is reading. And I sort of miss when she wasn’t reading. It’s all so strange. I hope that she actually likes to read. That it isn’t because of any unease I am making her feel that is forcing her to read. That would feel horrible, too.

I suppose I could move to another part of the train, but then she might think that she is making me uncomfortable. And that would make me feel even more uncomfortable.

These things happen when people aren’t invisible even when they feel invisible. If only one could have more of a say over one’s invisibility. If I had a say, I think I would be against it. In spite of the consequences.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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