When I first met Robert, he was wearing glasses. I thought he was the silent, nerdy, Asian type. Not the kind who cracks jokes and has an American sense of humor but the kind who barely said anything at all. I'd known some of these growing up back in my hometown, and they were just as quiet at home as they were at school.
Thinking of such guys used to make me wonder... derisively... why are they like that. And then that derisive attitude shifted towards me wondering whether they were okay living life that way or not. It made me worry. How can someone pass their existence so quietly and without the kind of social stimuli I was used to.
Entire school days I imagined them saying nothing more than what was necessary. And being talked to only when necessary. Maybe if they accidentally bumped into someone in the hall, the two would say 'oh sorry' to each other, but that's the sort of boilerplate phrase one utters to strangers. If you really were to engage with somebody, even if it were at the moment that you bump into in the hallway the conversation wouldn't just be about the apology. There might be a question asked. A suggestion of a future hangout. Normal people got such social interactions. Even the less popular kids got such. They had their own groups of friends, no matter how low on the social totem pole they sat.
But there were the few... very few per each graduating class. The ghosts. Nobody ever saw them. Nobody uttered anything other than boilerplate to them. Nobody sent them a text asking what they were up to, or would they want to hang out. They simply coasted through all the hoopla as a backdrop, less significant than a random locker, nobody ever thinking about them ever.
Except for me, because now I guess I am thinking about one. But only because Robert reminded me of him when we first met. Within two weeks though I learned Robert wasn't like that at all. He turned out to be the more loud, joke cracking, troll of an Asian guy. We got along well. I was happy to have made a 'friend' at my new job. But I also felt like I was missing out on being able to befriend and really get to know one of those ghosts.
Thinking of such guys used to make me wonder... derisively... why are they like that. And then that derisive attitude shifted towards me wondering whether they were okay living life that way or not. It made me worry. How can someone pass their existence so quietly and without the kind of social stimuli I was used to.
Entire school days I imagined them saying nothing more than what was necessary. And being talked to only when necessary. Maybe if they accidentally bumped into someone in the hall, the two would say 'oh sorry' to each other, but that's the sort of boilerplate phrase one utters to strangers. If you really were to engage with somebody, even if it were at the moment that you bump into in the hallway the conversation wouldn't just be about the apology. There might be a question asked. A suggestion of a future hangout. Normal people got such social interactions. Even the less popular kids got such. They had their own groups of friends, no matter how low on the social totem pole they sat.
But there were the few... very few per each graduating class. The ghosts. Nobody ever saw them. Nobody uttered anything other than boilerplate to them. Nobody sent them a text asking what they were up to, or would they want to hang out. They simply coasted through all the hoopla as a backdrop, less significant than a random locker, nobody ever thinking about them ever.
Except for me, because now I guess I am thinking about one. But only because Robert reminded me of him when we first met. Within two weeks though I learned Robert wasn't like that at all. He turned out to be the more loud, joke cracking, troll of an Asian guy. We got along well. I was happy to have made a 'friend' at my new job. But I also felt like I was missing out on being able to befriend and really get to know one of those ghosts.
