
UglyBastard
Kyrie, fons bonitatis
- Mar 28, 2023
- 1,888
I arrived at the supermarket early, almost unwilling to talk to anyone. All I had on my mind was my daily worries and the sleepless rush of surviving another day. As soon as I walked through the glass door, however, I bumped into her. A young woman, so fair-skinned that the contrast with her red hair stunned me. And before I could swallow and lower my gaze, she said, with a smile that emanated softness: ‘Good morning.’ God knows what that meant to me - it was like a ray of sunshine pierced my chest, splitting it into a thousand pieces of unexpected joy. Such an ordinary greeting for many, but for me it sounded like the most sublime song I've ever heard.
I realised that my legs were shaking as I pretended to pick biscuits off the shelf. I felt like a spectator of myself, observing from the outside a disturbed man, unable to say a simple ‘Good morning’ back without his face blushing. And yet there I was, trying in vain to disguise the childish excitement that was invading me. My insides were screaming: ‘Go up to her, say something, don't let this moment slip through your fingers!’ But I, trapped in my ancestral shyness, just squinted, trying to muster up the courage to go up to the till. When I finally approached, she looked up again, and I could see the shyness reflected in her big, light-brown eyes - as if she also felt a slight embarrassment at talking to me.
With the @ written down on my mobile phone, I said goodbye with such eagerness that I dropped a few coins. She laughed, a sweet laugh, and nodded slightly before going to the next person in the queue. I walked away with my heart racing, feeling both great and pathetic. Great because, in all my reclusive life, I had never dared to go that far; pathetic because my mind was already conjuring up the idea that, in all likelihood, that young woman, just entering adulthood, would never be interested in someone as...
In the days that followed, anticipation took over my routine. Everything revolved around my mobile phone, the notifications that didn't arrive, the messages - first discreet, then lengthy - that I sent in an attempt to make contact. ‘Hi, remember me? I really liked your smile...’ And then nothing. A second, bolder text: ‘I think there's something special about you, something that made me feel a little reborn.’ There was no reply either. With each failure, my chest would heave, as if overcome by an almost desperate anguish, and I'd ask myself: ‘Could it be that my feelings, so intense, are nothing more than a breath without an echo in her heart?
I write all this in the hope that other insecure NEETS will find in this story a trace of courage. The courage to try, even if everything seems delusional. The courage to risk a request for contact, even at the great risk of subsequent silence. Because, even if I didn't get a reply, even if the memory of that ‘Good morning’ turns into a handful of painful nostalgia, I feel that something has changed in me. For a brief second, I experienced the thrill of feeling alive, of knowing I was capable of dreaming. And whether that dream was fulfilled or not doesn't matter - because sometimes all it takes is a spark of joy in the middle of a grey life to rekindle our faith in a future that, until then, seemed incomprehensible to us.
So I end this story with a slightly calmer heart, although still wounded by the lack of an answer. Perhaps it will never come. Perhaps I'll continue to feel the slight tremor in my hands every time I remember that tender smile that welcomed me in the supermarket. But if life is made up of fragments, then I cling to this one - a fragment of courage and hope that, who knows, may light not only my path, but that of everyone who finds themselves trapped in their own shyness. One step at a time, habibi, that's all I need to keep going. And if I ever meet the girl again, perhaps I can thank her for having shown me, albeit unintentionally, that there is more to me than I realised. And I wonder if I should meet her again.