Saying "Hi" to John Doe
I was standing in the grocery store line getting my daily dose of energy, my Red Bull energy drink, when I noticed someone from my class, we’ll call him John Doe, was standing directly behind me in the line.
While we had never been “friends,” I talked to him a few times in class about school. He was intriguing. His personality was loud and blunt. He spoke his mind and he got what he wanted. I found him fascinating. He was sort of admirable to me, because I liked the way he carried himself.
I stood in front of him in line for a moment and then casually turned around and said, “Hey, John.”
And then boom. That’s when it happened.
The worst possible thing. John looked at me like I was a Monday morning or a “surprise” quiz, and said … nothing. He said absolutely nothing. But this wasn't just an "I don't know what to say," nothing. This was an "I don't understand why the help is talking to me," nothing. I swear I thought I was in a nightmare. I looked at him for a few seconds and then people started to notice, and then people started to stare, and then I saw my life flash before my eyes and thought, you have got to be kidding me.
The agony of the silence was like nothing I had ever experienced before. At that point I realized that John had no idea who the fuck I was. I tried to keep my composure but the silence pierced through my anxiety-ridden confidence like a knife.
I am staring at him at this point, thinking, “How could you not know who I am?” John and I had been in the same classes for at least two terms, and I couldn’t fathom him not recognizing me at all.
I did everything I could to have the courage to just stay in the line and let the rush of social anxiety pass through me, almost like a bolt of lightning running through my veins.
“Am I that insignificant?”
Trying to avoid any more awkwardness, I made a joke that was far from amusing considering the current situation.
“That’s okay, John! We have only had class together for the past two years!” I said with a smile, trying to make light of the wildly embarrassing circumstance.
John perked up and said something about how he was sorry, and that he only remembered people who really stood out.
That’s when I answered my own question.
“I am THAT insignificant.”
I left the grocery store and I ran to my car like it was my only way out of an elaborate maze. My mind was clouded with thoughts, and I swear on my life it was hard to breathe. I went home that day feeling heavy.
I am worthless. I thought. My voice is too quiet to be heard. My personality too dull to be recognized, my looks too average to stand out. I need to quit. I need to stop following outlandish dreams and I …
Wow.
There are a lot of people in the world. It was rush hour when I drove home and I could not help but notice the faces of the passersby in the cars driving next to me.
I wondered if they felt significant.
While we had never been “friends,” I talked to him a few times in class about school. He was intriguing. His personality was loud and blunt. He spoke his mind and he got what he wanted. I found him fascinating. He was sort of admirable to me, because I liked the way he carried himself.
I stood in front of him in line for a moment and then casually turned around and said, “Hey, John.”
And then boom. That’s when it happened.
The worst possible thing. John looked at me like I was a Monday morning or a “surprise” quiz, and said … nothing. He said absolutely nothing. But this wasn't just an "I don't know what to say," nothing. This was an "I don't understand why the help is talking to me," nothing. I swear I thought I was in a nightmare. I looked at him for a few seconds and then people started to notice, and then people started to stare, and then I saw my life flash before my eyes and thought, you have got to be kidding me.
The agony of the silence was like nothing I had ever experienced before. At that point I realized that John had no idea who the fuck I was. I tried to keep my composure but the silence pierced through my anxiety-ridden confidence like a knife.
I am staring at him at this point, thinking, “How could you not know who I am?” John and I had been in the same classes for at least two terms, and I couldn’t fathom him not recognizing me at all.
I did everything I could to have the courage to just stay in the line and let the rush of social anxiety pass through me, almost like a bolt of lightning running through my veins.
“Am I that insignificant?”
Trying to avoid any more awkwardness, I made a joke that was far from amusing considering the current situation.
“That’s okay, John! We have only had class together for the past two years!” I said with a smile, trying to make light of the wildly embarrassing circumstance.
John perked up and said something about how he was sorry, and that he only remembered people who really stood out.
That’s when I answered my own question.
“I am THAT insignificant.”
I left the grocery store and I ran to my car like it was my only way out of an elaborate maze. My mind was clouded with thoughts, and I swear on my life it was hard to breathe. I went home that day feeling heavy.
I am worthless. I thought. My voice is too quiet to be heard. My personality too dull to be recognized, my looks too average to stand out. I need to quit. I need to stop following outlandish dreams and I …
Wow.
There are a lot of people in the world. It was rush hour when I drove home and I could not help but notice the faces of the passersby in the cars driving next to me.
I wondered if they felt significant.
Then I wondered if
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