Welcoming Incomprehension

The man sat with his head slowly descending to the ground.

We wondered about his story. His ailment. Was he drunk? ill? on drugs? We weren’t sure. It was apparent he was not from here, though. His differences were glaring yet, indescribable. He did look like us. His style was not too far from what we would typically see down the high street. The same skin tone, if anything, slightly darker. It was almost as if he gave off a foreign essence.

Even then, I felt bad for how we spoke about him. Laughing at his failing body. Questioning how he got there. The man was a foot or two away from us. His head clinging onto his neck, and we watched on enjoying the circus. Our coffee cups clanged onto the table, knife and fork rinsing our ears whilst ridicule failed to penetrate his.

At my new job, my past is a secret. My tribulations did make me stronger, but my how outweighs my why. The man I stared at, with my diluting smirk strengthening after every joke refreshing my dissociative judgement, could easily have been me.

He was me. Between 17-29, point to any date, and you’ll find me hanging off my chair. At least this guy dressed smartly. His story, I assure you, warrants compassion. Every story does, but that day I favoured social levity rather than grounding humanity.

I thought about the words he could have heard. ‘Pathetic’ was a staple. Pouring down on him. ‘Idiot’, ‘Useless’, ‘Down and out’. A conglomerate of bias calculation. He does this, so he is that. He looks like this, so he is that. I say this because I know that. What gave us the right to assess a man’s totality? Not only the right, but who gave us that ability to see a man’s totality? No one. It is an impossible feat. But that didn’t stop the smiling and the fucking laughing.

He woke looking rough. Trousers almost reaching his knees, pockets out exposing empty opportunities. He stood up to collect his limited belongings. Solitary silence. His eyes stopped at us as he scanned the room to take in his surroundings. Giving each of us an equal five seconds. Our confidence fell to the ground, and that solitary silence was now accompanied by a much-needed shame. He bit his lip and nodded his head. One can only imagine what he wanted to do, but that day he showed a level of humanity that was not befitting us.

The silence continued until our break was over. I’m not sure if things will be different now. Stimulation, unfortunately, helps smoother guilt and shame. I hope, however, that my seat will be empty from now on.

Cheers