in the sea of strangers, do I exist?

When the ocean feels a drop, does it know that it's me and I might be drowning? Or does it think it's another boat just loving the waves and the wind?

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I was told not to talk to strangers, because in the sea of them, I wouldn't know who are the good ones and who are the bad ones. I wouldn't know who a friend is, and who would be someone who could plunge a knife into my flesh.

And even if you try hard enough to distinguish them from each other, you'll find it too hard. They walk so fast, their face contorted for different reasons—as if they are wearing a mask. It's hard, they all look faceless to me sometimes as well.

These strangers, are they scared of strangers too? Or are they aware of their role in my life? I wonder if they know of my existence. I think they are. I think they're not.

It will be very hard to miss me, a girl who stands still in the middle of the sidewalk. I'm probably special though for I am not taken away by the waves. I just stand there, stubborn with eyes squinted, taking in whatever features I could take from random people's faces.

This lady walking past my left has a red lipstick, and it wasn't put on well. This man's tie on my right is neat, his suitcase looks heavy in his hand. The kid who sits in the restaurant across the street loves a lollipop, loves it too much that he won't listen to his mother.

One moment I saw them turn their head towards my way. I looked into their eyes and didn't see my reflection.

In their eyes, it's just a busy sea of unknown people, and the current keeps flowing. In their eyes, at least in the reflection I see, no girl stands still in the crowd. Nothing special, nothing still.

This made me wonder, deeply and painfully. Is my life too small and unnoticeable? Am I invisible?

When I enter a room full of people, no one would bat an eye at my direction. No one tries to examine me; what kind of shoes do I wear? Are there stains on my shirt? Is my hair pretty? Does my phone look chick?

I'm pretty much sure none of those questions, or anything similar to those, pop up in their heads. I'm sure I'm like a ghost, but I am solid and alive and warm. But like a ghost, no one knows I'm here unless I try to give their heart a little scare.

And I think it's alright, it's fun.

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This is a work of fiction; my original prose!

This is my second article here this month. This is about feeling small and as if you're nothing in world with billion other people. It's a strange feeling, making you think you weigh nothing. But it also makes you feel so heavy, like you could bury yourself underground.

#may2022

Images from

https://pin.it/F3HcdlV

https://pin.it/2vAaWRY

https://pin.it/496a6vD

Lead image: https://pin.it/79Pyud0

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