sure. wait. what?

1.

Yesterday, while having lunch at a busy food court, a friend asked me if I enjoyed people-watching. I thought about it for a few seconds, then I said, “No, not really.”

“Not even a little bit?”

I thought about it some more.

“No,” I insisted. “Not even at all.”

“Woah,” my friend said. “I was so sure you’re the people-watching type.”

I bounced my shoulders as if to imply, welp, guess you’re wrong, and went back to eating.

“How do you not like people-watching?” my friend asked, unwilling to let the topic go just yet.

This time I thought out loud. “So, when you say people-watching, you mean watching people and thinking about their lives, right? Like coming up with back stories for them?” I asked.

“Exactly.”

“Yea, no. I guess I just don’t care about people in general? I’m also scared of people so…”

My friend laughed. “It’s like you don’t wanna be seen by them, so you don’t even look at them, eh?”

I guess so?

2.

Today, while waiting for the bus, I thought about my friend’s question again. Maybe I don’t people-watch, even when placed in a corner of a busy street, because my eyes are usually glued to my phone.

It helps that I live in a city where I don’t have to guard my phone in public. This isn’t Manila or Rio de Janeiro. I can check my phone to see if the bus is late or early; I can open an app to verify that I have a ticket to spare; or I can go on Instagram to quote-unquote watch people on a palm-sized screen. These are all mindless tasks.

People-watching, on the other hand, requires effort and creativity, not to mention giving a shit. You don’t wonder about other people’s lives, especially strangers, if you don’t give a shit.

3.

I wonder if my not-giving-a-shit-about-strangers-in-public is a direct consequence of being a smartphone user. Social media has been argued to cause antisocial tendencies, so maybe there’s an alternate reality out there in which I, in the absence of a smartphone, am standing by the bus stop and quietly observing the restless shuffling of pedestrians, thinking about what kind of home they’re rushing towards after a whole day’s work.

4.

The bus came a few minutes late, and it was packed. I stood at the back and held a tight grip on the metal pole, aware of the swarm of germs carrying traces of strangers past creeping onto my hand.

I don’t whip my phone out whenever I’m standing in a bus, afraid I’d lose my balance. I don’t watch people either. I just blankly stare out the window thinking about nothing. Sometimes I watch people, but only as a preemptive defense in case one of the passengers decide to stealthily fish my phone out of my pocket or uppercut me in the face (which, weirdly enough, has been happening in the city recently, the random punching).

My friend was right. I’m inherently distrustful of people. I don’t watch them because I don’t want to catch their attention, afraid that they might steal something from me or hurt me or, worse — they might observe me back. Just the thought of it — of being seen and watched — makes me shiver like a salted slug.