DubaiSpur
Ian Walker
One day, I will walk past someone on the street, on some cloudy, grey day. I may not notice their existence, I may shuffle out of the way obligingly like I tend to do, or I may just stare into their blank eyes as I stroll past, registering them as just another dull soul flowing onward into whatever mundane day he or she has in front of them.
This is life. Seven billion people on this blue planet, spinning relentlessly onward through space and time, going about their business. Never caring, never speaking and never noticing anyone beyond their narrow, predefined circles unless there is something in it for them. Friends? Accumulated through a lifetime of interaction at work, in college, or on the school playground. Relatives? Acquaintances made through the random chance of common blood or common heritage. Contacts? Made through ‘networking’, an activity that only exists to further your mutual self-interests in this ruthless, every-man-for-himself dogyard we call modern society. We move in our tiny circles, ignorant of the vast mass of humanity outside our doors. But it’s okay, because the rest of humanity is the same. We couldn’t care less what happens to anyone outside our little circle of familiarity: worrying about every single human is surely a mad, pointless endeavour. So we move in our own circles, do our own things, live our own lives.
But one day, I will walk past this person. I will put him or her out of my mind. And I will go home, turn on the television and learn that there was a suicide in the local area, that the police are investigating the incident, and that the victim’s family have been notified. I will think no more about it. I will put it down as another life wasted and move on to the sports, or the business news, or the latest political upheavals. But I will never associate this suicide with the person I walked past earlier that day. I will never link this tragic act to the blankness in this person’s eyes that I put down to the repetitiveness of modern life. I will never realise that by walking past, uncaring and unknowing, I had condemned this person as surely as his or her circumstances had. That by failing to recognise what lay beneath those blank eyes, and behind that façade of affected normality, I had let a person walk past me to their death without doing a single thing to stop it.
This is an apology to that person. I may never know you, I may never meet you, or laugh with you, or share your troubles. I may never watch a gentle sunset with you, I may never listen to the music you like or read the books you like. I may never run through the soft grass on a gentle summer‘s day with you, or listen to you recount your stories, from your life, from your many days spent wandering this strange and ethereal earth. I may never get to do these things. Such is modern life. We are trained to move in our own ways, and in our own groups. We look out for those in our group, but we are indifferent as to what happens to people outside that narrow circle. We trust that other people have their circles, and that they look after their own as surely as we look after ours.
But that isn’t the case. The people who end it all, who fall quietly through the heavy veil separating the living from the departed, they are the ones who have no circles. They are the ones who this compartmentalized society has left behind. Their troubles are never understood, and their emotions are never fully grasped. They are the ones who, whether by accident or design, are left wandering this planet without ever finding someone who can share their burdens, or ease their sorrows. They are alone, deep down. And when they walk down the streets and see the mass of uncaring, monolithic people flow relentlessly into their daily routines, they know this.
Perhaps I am being hopelessly, disgustingly naïve. But sometimes, I am struck by these thoughts. A hug from a random stranger, a, a cup of coffee on a cold day, an earnest chat with some silent, tearful person huddled in the corner of a bench…these actions are trivial in themselves. But the meaning behind them is clear: that there are people in this world that care. Even in today’s relentless, winner-takes-all society that is something that saves lives. Sure, it’s just a cup of coffee, or a chat, or even just a hug. But somewhere, sometime, that has saved a life. The person who most needs love is the person most reluctant to ask for it. Therefore, offering it unconditionally to someone you feel needs it may be the spark that helps prevent that most silent and gut-wrenching of tragedies; the one that is self-inflicted. What people need most is to feel that they matter, that there is someone that doesn’t want them to disappear. Even if that person is a random stranger who just had an urge to do something, anything, to show them that he or she cares.
We cannot do it every time. We cannot determine who most needs our love, and our sympathy. Some people have gone so far down the abyss that they cannot be brought back, even by the ones that know and love them. And some people hide their curse deep down, and well, and appear indistinguishable from any other pale human face. We cannot recognize every person on the edge of the cliff, thrown adrift by society…. and we cannot prevent every suicide with kindly actions alone.
So, for those people, this is an apology. To that blank-eyed soul I will walk past at some point in my future, uncomprehending and uncaring….I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see what troubled you. I ‘m sorry I couldn't show you that people do care. I’m sorry that I couldn't learn your secrets, share your loves and fears, laugh with you, and be there when you needed me. I’m sorry you passed out of this world we all live in before I could get to know you. And I’m sorry I couldn't spot you out from the crowd on that grey day, so that if nothing else, I could give you a hug and tell you that I love you.
I’m sorry. And I can assure you of this; I will do my bit. I will buy that cup of coffee for that sobbing girl, I will hug that silent, pale-faced man, and I will talk to the outcast sitting silently on the corner of a bench. I will try to spread a bit of love and kindness into the world, so I can help people overcome their sorrows and troubles. I don’t know if it will change even one persons’ mind, or bring even one person back from the abyss they were unknowingly falling into. Hell, I don’t even know if the people I try to cheer up are even that far along the road to tragedy, or if they’re just having a bricky day.
It doesn't matter. No one deserves to feel alone and unwanted, even if that feeling is just temporary. No one deserves to feel out of control. And no one deserves to be put on a path that will eventually test their mental strength to the point where some of them refuse to go on any longer.
That’s the least I can do. In this world, there’s enough hatred, misery and sorrow. To add apathy to that list would be the most unforgivable thing we as humans could do, and yet we do it without blinking. It’s time to change that, starting with me at the very least.
I owe you that much. I’m sorry, my friend. I love you. And one day, I hope I’ll finally get to meet you, somewhere among the gentle, twinkling stars where we all came from and to where we will all one day return.
This is life. Seven billion people on this blue planet, spinning relentlessly onward through space and time, going about their business. Never caring, never speaking and never noticing anyone beyond their narrow, predefined circles unless there is something in it for them. Friends? Accumulated through a lifetime of interaction at work, in college, or on the school playground. Relatives? Acquaintances made through the random chance of common blood or common heritage. Contacts? Made through ‘networking’, an activity that only exists to further your mutual self-interests in this ruthless, every-man-for-himself dogyard we call modern society. We move in our tiny circles, ignorant of the vast mass of humanity outside our doors. But it’s okay, because the rest of humanity is the same. We couldn’t care less what happens to anyone outside our little circle of familiarity: worrying about every single human is surely a mad, pointless endeavour. So we move in our own circles, do our own things, live our own lives.
But one day, I will walk past this person. I will put him or her out of my mind. And I will go home, turn on the television and learn that there was a suicide in the local area, that the police are investigating the incident, and that the victim’s family have been notified. I will think no more about it. I will put it down as another life wasted and move on to the sports, or the business news, or the latest political upheavals. But I will never associate this suicide with the person I walked past earlier that day. I will never link this tragic act to the blankness in this person’s eyes that I put down to the repetitiveness of modern life. I will never realise that by walking past, uncaring and unknowing, I had condemned this person as surely as his or her circumstances had. That by failing to recognise what lay beneath those blank eyes, and behind that façade of affected normality, I had let a person walk past me to their death without doing a single thing to stop it.
This is an apology to that person. I may never know you, I may never meet you, or laugh with you, or share your troubles. I may never watch a gentle sunset with you, I may never listen to the music you like or read the books you like. I may never run through the soft grass on a gentle summer‘s day with you, or listen to you recount your stories, from your life, from your many days spent wandering this strange and ethereal earth. I may never get to do these things. Such is modern life. We are trained to move in our own ways, and in our own groups. We look out for those in our group, but we are indifferent as to what happens to people outside that narrow circle. We trust that other people have their circles, and that they look after their own as surely as we look after ours.
But that isn’t the case. The people who end it all, who fall quietly through the heavy veil separating the living from the departed, they are the ones who have no circles. They are the ones who this compartmentalized society has left behind. Their troubles are never understood, and their emotions are never fully grasped. They are the ones who, whether by accident or design, are left wandering this planet without ever finding someone who can share their burdens, or ease their sorrows. They are alone, deep down. And when they walk down the streets and see the mass of uncaring, monolithic people flow relentlessly into their daily routines, they know this.
Perhaps I am being hopelessly, disgustingly naïve. But sometimes, I am struck by these thoughts. A hug from a random stranger, a, a cup of coffee on a cold day, an earnest chat with some silent, tearful person huddled in the corner of a bench…these actions are trivial in themselves. But the meaning behind them is clear: that there are people in this world that care. Even in today’s relentless, winner-takes-all society that is something that saves lives. Sure, it’s just a cup of coffee, or a chat, or even just a hug. But somewhere, sometime, that has saved a life. The person who most needs love is the person most reluctant to ask for it. Therefore, offering it unconditionally to someone you feel needs it may be the spark that helps prevent that most silent and gut-wrenching of tragedies; the one that is self-inflicted. What people need most is to feel that they matter, that there is someone that doesn’t want them to disappear. Even if that person is a random stranger who just had an urge to do something, anything, to show them that he or she cares.
We cannot do it every time. We cannot determine who most needs our love, and our sympathy. Some people have gone so far down the abyss that they cannot be brought back, even by the ones that know and love them. And some people hide their curse deep down, and well, and appear indistinguishable from any other pale human face. We cannot recognize every person on the edge of the cliff, thrown adrift by society…. and we cannot prevent every suicide with kindly actions alone.
So, for those people, this is an apology. To that blank-eyed soul I will walk past at some point in my future, uncomprehending and uncaring….I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t see what troubled you. I ‘m sorry I couldn't show you that people do care. I’m sorry that I couldn't learn your secrets, share your loves and fears, laugh with you, and be there when you needed me. I’m sorry you passed out of this world we all live in before I could get to know you. And I’m sorry I couldn't spot you out from the crowd on that grey day, so that if nothing else, I could give you a hug and tell you that I love you.
I’m sorry. And I can assure you of this; I will do my bit. I will buy that cup of coffee for that sobbing girl, I will hug that silent, pale-faced man, and I will talk to the outcast sitting silently on the corner of a bench. I will try to spread a bit of love and kindness into the world, so I can help people overcome their sorrows and troubles. I don’t know if it will change even one persons’ mind, or bring even one person back from the abyss they were unknowingly falling into. Hell, I don’t even know if the people I try to cheer up are even that far along the road to tragedy, or if they’re just having a bricky day.
It doesn't matter. No one deserves to feel alone and unwanted, even if that feeling is just temporary. No one deserves to feel out of control. And no one deserves to be put on a path that will eventually test their mental strength to the point where some of them refuse to go on any longer.
That’s the least I can do. In this world, there’s enough hatred, misery and sorrow. To add apathy to that list would be the most unforgivable thing we as humans could do, and yet we do it without blinking. It’s time to change that, starting with me at the very least.
I owe you that much. I’m sorry, my friend. I love you. And one day, I hope I’ll finally get to meet you, somewhere among the gentle, twinkling stars where we all came from and to where we will all one day return.
