Why Can’t You Pass That Respect Along?

When I became an adult, I promised myself I wouldn’t do it. I promised myself I would stop taking things personally — at least curb that habit.

Maybe in the years since I transferred into adulthood, there was progress made but more than often, it’s hard to see and it’s definitely hard to feel.

Photo by jurien huggins on Unsplash

I can’t tell you how many people I have seen act charming and affable with others but when I approach them, even on my best day, they wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Maybe it’s me and maybe it’s been me all these years, but it seems beyond peculiar at how many times I’m walking with someone and whoever’s walking towards us greets them only, either by name or by looking right at them. It is both frustrating and disillusioning as I didn’t think human interaction was this hard, and that goes especially for the times when, to the suggestion of many, to initiate the greeting only to get ignored or be given a forced smile in return.

For years, I thought this just me and thought that I was irrational for thinking that way. Yet, it does feel like it is me because I can’t help but believe it’s me — and it kills me inside.

Photo by Tiago Felipe Ferreira on Unsplash

These days, though, if I walk anywhere surrounded by people, I’ll have my headphones on listening to music. This, I admit, doesn’t help my case. After all, the only people who tried speaking to me while I had my headphones on were, for lack of a better term, conspiracy theorists who couldn’t go three words without saying “f*ck” (or so it seemed).

I’ve never really been able to open up about this before as I’ve been told that it’s “all in my head”. Maybe that’s accurate, but then again, maybe I’m onto something. Whatever the case may be, though, I’m just sick and tired of feeling the anxiety of wondering if the person who was so nice to the person in front of me will show me the same amount of respect. I don’t know, though. To me, and not to sound melodramatic, but it seems that it would be wishful thinking.

Is it my hair? Is it the way I walk? Am I wearing my glasses crooked or is my fashion sense not up to date?

Whatever it is, I’m so sick of bludgeoning myself over the head with these questions.

I’m just so sick of caring about it.

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