i wish that i didn’t have regrets. i wish that i took the photos i meant to take when i saw them, and now i’m haunted by their nonexistence.
i wish that i stepped forward more often, approached more of those interesting strangers more often, said something, said anything.
didn’t want to infringe, ruin the already anxious commute, put someone out, or make someone uncomfortable in a public space.
it’s such a strange fine line though. whether to engage or respect people so much that you forgo any and all interaction of any kind. but this at times may prove a mistake.
if not you then it’ll be some other person, and they may not be so kind, or interesting, creative, honest, or brave. they might be the reason you don’t do something about a feeling which stems from a place of appreciation.
by you not saying or doing anything, you’re showing yourself that there is no shared experience, save a feeling of alienation and forced bubble of privacy. you’re helping to extend the notion that we are not all in this together.
and we are in this together. (we are all sort of weird already, but isn’t it a comfort to know that we are all weird together? i think so, and there’s a certain poetry in that.)
i wish that i didn’t have regrets, and in the near future, you just might meet me out in the world being slightly bold or bashful to your face, so either way, don’t shirk, avoid, or walk on by.
please be in the least understanding. cause it will be a pleasure to meet you, and i can promise i’ve washed my hands.