Harshi Pannala Q4 #1 - Chitter Chatter
Sometimes I will just be sitting in class and wonder what our future holds for us. Looking at my classmates makes me irrationally sad at times. What if we don’t talk later in life? What if they forget me? Worse, what if I forget them? I have been having these thoughts long before I entered junior year and before the idea of college and leaving home became an impending thought.
As I am writing this I keep glancing up from my keyboard and I see classmates that I have shared classes with since seventh grade and some since kindergarten. I sometimes get embarrassed because I am almost positive that they don’t think about our past shared experiences as much as I do.
The time they helped me up after I fell during band rehearsal.
The many Discord messages asking if the math test was easy or if they needed to dedicate five hours to study.
The chip packets we randomly share throughout history because who really wants to learn about tax cuts. Again.
The minutia details I acquired over the course of our time together at school. Like whether they have any pets. Or that their little sister crocheted them a bag. Or how their lunch rotations consist of grilled cheese, pasta, and fried rice. YUM!
It’s important to keep in mind that I am not talking about the people you can confidently call your friends. With your friends you can bring up the memories that just popped into your mind. But with the classmates who seem to have an ounce of hatred towards you—perhaps that’s just a me thing, although I hope you understand what I’m talking about—there is a hesitation to bring up those memories. Are we close enough? Would they even care? Those moments you have with them just live with you, never resurfacing in those in-between class chats. That makes me ridiculously sad. From now on, I am going to just tell everyone everything, as if I don’t talk enough. I want to graduate making sure I show my appreciation for my classmates, even if the way I do that is through seemingly useless conversations about events from eons ago. I might as well start now, because the early bird catches the worm (I don’t know what the worm is, please don’t ask).
Hi Harshi! This was a thought that I’ve had for a while, but never quite knew how to put into words—especially not as well as you did. I think it came up first when I enthusiastically greeted someone in my class in elementary school only to realize that they barely remembered me. From then on, I’ve always been acutely aware of the idea that I think more about others than they do about me. However, I really enjoyed reading your perspective; showing appreciation for those we interact with is always valued, even if we aren’t incredibly close. Additionally, it’s good to know that other people do actually think more about all of our experiences together than I may have anticipated; knowing we all have these experiences makes it easier to talk to new people. Being able to express our gratitude and fully enjoy these small moments brings us all closer together, even if for just a fleeting moment.
ReplyDeleteI also appreciate the picture of Samir. I would always talk with him after his history class, so I guess we share that experience as well.
Harshi, I got really sad myself reading this, but I’m always grateful for your humor (especially with the worm). I feel overly sentimental with a lot of things, but you’ve added another factor to my pile of worries about the future… and I now wonder if I’ll ever see YOU again after this. Though, this is a really touching sentiment. More than feeling sad, I just feel grateful that I’ve met you and all the other people I’ve come to appreciate over time. Seeing them everyday, I don’t know how I’ll survive rebuilding this community of mine post high school. I’ll definitely miss these little moments you describe, the ones with fleeting classmates that you can’t wave to in the halls because you don’t know them after the year. But like you, I’ve decided I’ll try to wave to everyone I know.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking about specific things now: that band rehearsal thing sounds simple in text but I totally get you. I don’t willingly hang out with certain bandmates but it is a whole experience falling on the field while a hundred other kids around you with functioning feet do their job properly. So it feels different to be helped up by these people—like you’re more than just some person who happens to play an instrument near them. Also, nice Samir cameo! I’ve had a couple odd interactions with him since he has offered me snacks like I’m some kind of lab hamster. He’s never spoken to me; he just puts the food in front of me and looks at me as a signal to take it. I think it’s really funny that we don’t interact at all aside from this. I enjoyed your blog!!
The memories we hold of the people we barely know truly can be some of the most beautiful—or sometimes, the most debilitating—memories of all. Sometimes a singular, fleeting experience shared with someone can be refreshing, and both can leave the first and last interaction they will ever have with each other without feeling regret or remorse. Other times, your crossed paths end on a bitter note, and you go your entire life not knowing whether you could or shot make it right, or, like you said, whether the other person even remembers it at all.
ReplyDeleteTo me, your line “What if I forget them?” is definitely the most impactful line in your blog. Our lives are shaped by these tiny memories of little bits of information from people we may only meet a few times in our lives, and the thought of actively losing a part of that—or, worse, the thought that you most definitely have forgotten an uncountable amount of people—can be justifiably terrifying. Although cliché, it might be beneficial to go about such ephemeral interactions with a sort of mindset like “treating every day with them like your last.” Being kind to a stranger shouldn’t be done simply out of courtesy, but out of mutual respect for each others’ well being.