Us the forgettables

I'm sure I'm not the only that has ever thought about this. After all, it's a common aspect of life. You meet someone, you share an experience, a laugh, a meal. You think to yourself what a great person he/she is. You even imagine developing a friendship, how possible it could be, how easy it would be. But, you also know it's not gonna happen.

Is it tragic? Not really. I mean, it seems to be, because you can see it as a missed opportunity to have a meaningful connecting with another human being. I'm not talking about romantic connections, at least not exclusively. I'm more referring to people that you know you click with, those you feel deep inside your heart, vibrate in a combatible way with your thoughts, with your personality.

I'm thinking about this today, this saturday morning of all days. Because I was remembering my management training days all those years ago. The company I used to work for would send me on this extended trips for training. It was fun, I won't lie. The experience of seeing a new city, engaging with people with different backgrounds was always enriching. To me the opportunity to create alliances within the brand new group that had sprouted just for the event was a main focus.

Think about this for a minute. Have you ever been at a gathering and you know absolutely nobody? Does that feel comfortable? Do that sound like a good time? Of course not. So my approach has always been to walk through the door kicking the ice down. My mindset was and has been: I'm going to make some good friends today.

You could say it's a self defense mechanism. After all, it's important to feel like someone has your back. But, I'm sure there are layers of sociological explanations for awkward interactions, the overly compensating dialogues and the social butterflies trying to catch a wind drift.

So there, all those names, all those faces being slowly deleted from my memory. All the people who I shared a drink with, laughed, joked around with. As time goes by they become faceless, then nameless and then, a blurry distant memory. It's almost as if their unique feature, the one thing that made them an individual in my eyes is slowly being stolen from my personal archives.

Funny.... it's funny how that works. But it's not tragic, at least not in the way we think of tragedies. It just is. And I'm sitting here wondering the number of brains where a vague memory of me resides, slowly eroding into forgetfulness.

Here is my little tribute, this post... to us... the forgettables.