In Middle school, I used to pace around the playground and pretend there were spaceships flying around and that the grass was an alien planet. To everyone not in my head, it must have looked like I was looking down, pacing trying to shut them out.
I used to stare out the window during car trips pretending aliens were attacking the buildings. I’d see explosions and cool effects, and I’d be having a great time. To the other passengers, I looked withdrawn, uncaring.
I had no idea that my constant imaginings were separating me from other people. I passed a girl on the way to work today who was staring at the ground. Like me, she probably had no idea she came off as spacey; maybe she was seeing an alien attack, too.
It’s pretty easy to fall into depression when you look at life for what it is: people running around, doing whatever they do and then dying. That’s it, that’s all we do, and unless you get a purpose, or hold some kind of belief, you’re done, your life is terrible. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Ground lookers, if you’re reading this, everyone sees you. Everyday when you walk past other people looking at the ground, we wonder why you won’t connect. When you start imagining something or get preoccupied with your own thoughts in the middle of a conversation, we wonder where you go.
Entertain us, tell us what you’re thinking. It might be crazy, or you might be scared of the response, but it doesn’t matter. Rejection won’t kill you no matter what your nervous system says.
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