And I saw, without really seeing, that people are beautiful.

I love people watching. 
And I recently noticed that I look at people, but I don't see them.


I love smiling at strangers. 
I'll walk around campus or Walmart, and smile at everyone I walk by because I like the temporary joy I may give them; I like that I make them feel special, like they've been seen, even if it's for just a moment... but I never really see at them. 


Yes, I make eye contact and notice what they're wearing, how they walk, facial features, etc, but am I going to remember them the next time I smile at them on campus? Probably not. 


The other night, all 5 of my roommates and I were sitting around joking and talking. As we were laughing I looked at one of them, seeing her for the first time. I was so surprised that I hadn't before, I mean, I've been living with her for 3 months. But there she was, the same person as every other time I'd looked at her, and I was seeing her for the first time. And I realized there was so much to see. So much that I had been too busy to notice, or too careless to make the effort to take in. 


I love people. And I'm disappointed that this has become a habit for me. 


Mostly, I hate airports because they stress me out, but the people in airports fascinate me. I want to know where they're going and why, where they're coming from and why, and who they're traveling with and why. 
Even driving around town, I see cars and wonder the same thing. Is their reason as simple as mine? Or is it much more interesting?




Everyone has a story. 
Everyone has something weighing on their mind. 
Everyone loves someone, hates someone, loves something, hates something. 
Everyone is so much more than what you look at on the outside. 
But if you really see someone, you'll see that they're just like you.
When you see someone, you see that you're really not alone in this world. 
You see that they're made up of cells and atoms, and wonderfully complex parts just like you. 
You see that they have a beating heart, broken maybe, or maybe perfectly content. 
You see that they have a mind with synapses, memories, emotions, etc, all different from anyone else in the universe. 
You see that they have opinions, beliefs, reasons, and motives. 
You see that they have a countless number of hairs on their body, a pigment that can never be exactly matched or recreated. 
You see that they have wrinkles, on their brow or on their cheek that hold stories of every frown they've ever frowned, and every smile they've ever smiled. 
You see that they're walking, going somewhere, toward a goal, toward a destination. 
You see that they have dreams, and wishes, and hopes, and prayers. 
You see that their feet and hands are calloused from years of hard, or not so hard, work.
You see that they have eyes that observe, scan, blink, cry, perceive, and speculate. Eyes nonidentical to any other. Eyes hard or soft, with stories. Eyes that are the window to their soul, the deepest part of their being. 
You see that they have senses. They look at scenes, they hear sounds, they touch textures, they smell scents, they taste flavors, and their perception of each of those things may be completely different than your own. 
You see that they're breathing. Their body requires oxygen to survive just like yours does.
You see that there are so many things unseen. Their struggles, their pain, their guilt. It's all there beneath the layers of clothing. 


You see that they walk, make eye contact, flash a simple smile, felt or fake, and they don't see you either. 




Wow, I feel small. All this time I foolishly thought without really thinking that I was the only one. But I'm just one in a sea of faces longing to be seen.