Many a time we exchange hesitant glances. I don’t know, maybe it isn’t mutual at all. Maybe it’s just me.
I feel there’s a connection through a mere eye contact, although body gesture is harder to detect. Whenever I come across him, our eyes seem to make their way to find each other either consciously or subconsciously. Or simply coincidentally. Maybe it’s just me.
We are in a foreign land but my actions and reactions convey something that is familiar, lacking integrity of my own feelings. Sometimes I regret being straight-faced when in fact the inside of me is jumbled up. Some other time I’m grateful that I don’t act on impulse lest I embarrass myself. Being honest with other people is one thing, being honest with myself is quite another.
I’m now queuing for an attraction with my sisters who are busily getting excited for the upcoming ride in the front. All I can perceive is their distant chatter while the voice inside my head is more audible than ever. My memory also harmonizes with a flashback of the encounters I had with him or them. It all appears too deliberate to be coincidences. It’s like: when I think of seeing them, I see them!
I’m just diverting my confused thoughts by looking to my left and, true enough; there I see him standing afar off, looking up at the ride we have been waiting in the line for. Sigh, maybe it’s just me.
Perhaps my head has been in the heat for too long and senses my nervousness from getting on the heart-pumping ride that it makes up its own baseless reasoning. Now my palms are sweating and I receive the puzzled looks from my two sisters.
I dare not speak out my emotions. Bottling them up inside the pit of my stomach is my expertise. I fear being judged, being disappointed, being mocked at for how I am. I fear the day when all this perturbation to my ostensibly-calm mental being becomes a mere fling with strangers (pardon the unintended sexual innuendo). I guess the distractions during the otherwise comfortable travel trip are the façade of my outcry for attention I never had.
At the least, I try to create a lively atmosphere around me. I politely ask for help when I sincerely need it; even when it means I have to approach the strangers and yes, won’t you believe it, I did. I put on my finest mask to face them so I can transfer any positive energy left of me. I stretch my limit and talk to them even when I don’t feel like it.
Strangers come and go.
Strangers may enter your life and stay in there, becoming a part of it.
Strangers may also pass you by like warm air that soothes but gives a chill as time ticks by.
Strangers are unpredictable; they may impart hopes in few occasions but take them back all at once in just a snap of a finger.
Strangers are weird and so am I.