Touch.

Journal entry no. 4

Everyday I see people. Usually, though not always, the same people. We look at each other, and sometimes, we even say hello. We might even chat for a moment or two before we feel we've both run out of things to say and awkwardly excuse ourselves from the conversation long after our eyes started looking for a way out.

Why do I look for a way out? I am not in danger, I tell myself. Yet, I feel uncomfortable. Like there is a disconnect - a disconnect between two souls which are meant to live harmoniously. A disconnect between I and You. 

I see you on a regular basis. I greet you with sincere interest and delight. But I don't think about you. Not often. Hardly at all, really. I don't stop to wonder if you are well. Maybe I should. Maybe I could care more.

I remember reading Miss Peregrin's Home For Peculiar Children (written by Ransom Riggs) and finding that Millard was my favorite character. His peculiarity? He's invisible. So when the main character see's a blanket or sheet or whatever it was over his face, it means something. I'd never thought about what Millard looks like, that even though we can't see his face, he still has one of course. Seeing the outline of it, seeing his features under the sheet made him more real.

Physical contact is something many of us perhaps don't think on enough. Physical contact is a form of intimacy, a form of connection between humans. When you touched me, I felt it. You tapped on my arm and you had never done that before. I felt you. I thought, briefly, in between the touch and whatever it was you wanted to tell me, about that touch and what it meant. That it made me feel you were real, as real as me. 

Not that I ever doubted you were, but I never really grasped it either. How a single touch, how knowing you are real, made me care a little bit more. Like there was a moment of unspoken connection between us beyond the physical contact. 

I think, even though it was a small moment, there could be more moments like that. A moment where it's ok to touch someone's hand. A moment where it's ok to hug a friend. A moment to just be held and drink in the silence.

I think, that maybe, with more moments like that, more people would feel a little less alone and maybe the world would be a little bit of a better place.