Stranger Lamentation Commiseration
I have felt awfully lonely in busy public spaces. Coffee shops are good spaces to be lonely in, as everyone looks intently at computers and books, I am certain their lives are balanced, interesting, delightful. I am sitting at one such coffee shop, finding a communal table open entirely on one side…room to spread, room to feel lonely. I’m opening up my saved tabs, collecting to a count that makes me feel like I’ve got less and less a grip even though I have labeled them so well. Across from me are two folks whose conversations stretch to my ears around flights and tasks started that can’t be finished at this communal table, and I find comfort in this comradery only I know at this moment. As they stand, they say to the coffee shop hum, “why is adulting so hard?”. I look up, I had to, compelled to, if for no other reason than to witness someone own imbalance. I got to say “I relate”, letting every ounce of vulnerable empathy seep from my tired pores, and we laughed. She returned with a “thank you for validating me” and my “of course” solidified the truth that adulting is so fucking hard and I am not alone in that. No loneliness there. I hope she figures out her flights.