The luxury of Anonymity

Wrote this in 2018 on a 7-hour plane jumping continents while seated in the middle seat. Present me chuckles at this ode to anonymity, something I am consciously choosing to give up now to give into love fully.

The luxury of being a nameless face!
The luxury of anonymity. 

In a room full of people, each with a pair of eyes can still somehow make me invisible. So is it not eyes that see, I wonder? Or has it always been the heart, affection, and connection that helps us see each other? 

Ahh, Invisibility the powerful cloak that reveals my introversion. My need to not be known, recognized, spoken to, heard even. Where fame would be sickening, fatal even. 

At the cinemas in a foreign country, at airports, metro and bus rides does this luxury befall me. With strange eyes meeting yet not seeing. Voices loud but still unheard. So many people but yet me happy all alone.  

They all look through me, thank God!  That allows me to dig through me. To dig and dissect my emotions, thoughts, curiosities, and wonderings. To have long lively exchanges with my first and forever friend.

The external noises drown from the enchanting chaos within. Personal conversations, grieving, grudges, disappointments, and yes, inside jokes abound.

What about anonymity do I love so much? Maybe I don’t have to care and concern myself about anyone. No One. No duties, no values have to play out. Just silly ol’ me enjoying my own company. 

So in being anonymous, unknown here and there, do I stumble upon the treasure of - hearing, seeing, and maybe accidentally even falling in love with me.