[ Strangers, FINALLY Redefined ]

…continued from [ Strangers, Redefined (I) ] , [ Strangers, Redefined (II) ] , [ Strangers, Redefined (III) ]

 

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

THE END.

 

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