The Bystander

‎I am combing my hair infront of my grandmother. You know what this means: I will hear how my hair has become shorter. How my cousin has astounding hair growth, and it is because my aunt applies flaxseed before she washes her hair, so I should do the same. Then she will continue to tell me what beautiful hair my father had when he was my age. I must have taken the hair genes from my mother’s side. My cousin is 4 years old, and frankly, who gives a shit? Maybe I should also mention one of her friends. And be like, “Remember what’s her name? Her blood pressure is so low,” and continue with, “She also doesn’t use a cane, unlike you. Maybe you should exercise; you shouldn’t sleep so much. Old ladies your age do plenty of things.”

But what would be the point? I can be mean when I am sad. I am still learning this taking the high road shit. I will admit I am not dealing with this year very well. This is not to complain but explain how things are. I am trying to break a generational cycle of constant comparison and toxicity. I will be better. My intentions of becoming a better human being are purely out of spite. So that I could look down on my relatives and show them that I am the first in my blood line to be GREAT.

‎‎It has been April for fucking forever now. Last month my other cousin told me how one of our relatives was telling her how she is getting old and that she should start dating. Our main concern should be on settling down and having a family while we are young. Coming from a man who dated his wife while he was in his thirties and she was in 11th grade is rich. ‎ My hatred for my relatives is not something I want to discuss right now. Moving on.

I want to talk about being a third wheel. Were you the third wheel in your friendships just like I was? Is that where you developed the habit of being a cuckold? It’s okay; I also hide in the closet and watch. The life of a third wheel doesn’t start with having friends that are dating. It starts with noticing interest. The boy from this class section likes your friend, and now he hovers and peacocks to get her attention; he might even go as far as coming to you and asking you for her number. And if you are just the right amount of creepy that stays in the corner and watches people, you can even understand who is interested in whom before they even realize it. What can I say? Sexual tension reeks.

Before you know it, you are included in their plans. Tagging along when they walk home when really all he wants to do is walk by his love interest’s side and slowly work up the courage to hold her hand or even ask her out. I mean, it will eventually happen, and before you know it, you become sort of the adopted child. Your friend convinces you she needs you there for moral support, and being the agreeable friend you are, you say okay. You don’t want to disappoint her. Then you are forced to listen to cheesy lines and the shitty interests of a 17-year-old (forgive me, I was emo). Of course the dates happen; that is when you should start to mentally prepare before being mentally drained. You won’t be included when they are in their honeymoon phase after the horniness of teenage love settles. The “let’s meet my best friend” date starts to happen, and from here on out you are just there.

Third wheels, you know what I’m talking about. With time everything evolves. He brings her flowers and chocolates, and he gives you a pity gift, which makes the entire situation even more awkward. Mother Earth, open your mouth and swallow me. Why did I agree to this? You always ask yourself this after you leave your house. They will even grow to resent you. “Why is she always with us? Doesn’t she have a boyfriend or someone she is interested in?” And your friend giggling simply says, “Oh, she hates people; that’s why.” Subconsciously you are cockblocking him by being there or not letting them be as intimate as they want to be. All of this because you don’t know how to say FUCK NO. That’s as far as high school relationships go. Adult relationships are much better; they want to spend as much time with each other without involving you. Now that you are an adult, everyone is supposed to have something going on for them, right? Either it is your career or a relationship, hobbies, and a social life.

I have always been that friend who is comfortable with being invisible, anything to not step out of my comfort zone, and I feel like I have always been a third wheel not only in my friends’ relationships but in my life as well. A bystander witnessing as others go out in the world and live their lives. Living vicariously through their experience. Lurking like the pathetic coward I am. I have said this multiple times. This is perhaps my way of self-flagellation. Because it was easier to watch than to risk being seen.

And now I am on my own; I don’t have to be a third wheel in anyone’s life. I am finally faced with myself and all the opportunities I didn’t take or I have yet to take. I live in my head most of the time. I feel alienated from the world; I feel like a stranger to my own body. My skin no longer fits me, and my soul is desperate for an escape out of this body.

I want to experience life, but I hate the world. I am a misanthrope, yet I somehow believe in humanity and understand the need for human connections. I don’t care about relationships. (I am too mentally unstable for that. Teehee, but I obsess over life and what it means to have a life lived and fulfilled. I just want to experience life, find inspirations, fall in love with my own potential all over again, and grow into the woman I know I can become.

And there is a sense of shame that comes with the feeling of falling behind while others move onward. It is crippling; reaching out seems to feel like too much. Even though you miss the feeling of having a conversation with someone familiar. You miss the warmth of being known; you stop yourself from reaching out. And slowly you see the connection you had starts to die because friendship or any human relationship, for that matter, is a two-way street. It will die if you do not take care of it. I have mastered the skill of standing still and pretending that I am not there. When you spend so much time standing on the sidelines, eventually people stop saving you a spot in the game.

There’s a certain kind of loneliness that comes with realizing you’ve been standing on the sidelines of your own life. Watching. Waiting. Telling yourself you’ll step in when you’re ready. When you spend enough time watching life happen to other people, it becomes easy to believe that’s your role in it. The observer. The extra. The one who stands just slightly out of frame. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready.

But I am starting to understand that life is not something you observe until you feel brave enough. It’s something that keeps moving with or without you. No one assigned me that role. I just got comfortable there. And comfort, as it turns out, is a very convincing trap. I don’t want to be the person who only ever almost lived. Who almost tried. Who almost became. And I don’t need to become a completely different person overnight. I don’t need a grand transformation or a perfect plan. I just need to stop standing still. To say yes a little more. To reach out even when it feels uncomfortable. To risk being seen, even if I don’t like what that looks like yet. I have spent so much time being a third wheel in other people’s lives. I think it’s time I stop being one in my own.