A Plea for Slowness from a Fast Runner

You ever feel like the world's racing and you're not even a willing participant? Like somehow you got drafted into this marathon and everyone's far ahead, but you're just trying to tie your shoelaces? That's how I felt when I first immigrated—alone, trailing behind, while everyone else seemed to be on the track of their perfect lives.

People don't talk about loneliness. They don't. Not the ones who've been in a place all their lives, and definitely not the new ones like me. It's almost like it's taboo, admitting you're lonely. It's admitting that maybe your life isn't picture perfect. Maybe that selfie had a hundred outtakes. Maybe that family photo was a single happy second in a 24-hour day. Loneliness is the silent epidemic that everyone's too proud to admit they're battling.

I haven't talked to a soul in two days. No, it's not because I want to; it's because life's so damn busy. I've been trying to set a date with a friend for two weeks. Our calendars look like battle plans, all marked and crossed, but no available slots align. So here I am, in my four-bedroom apartment, in a city that never sleeps but also never talks.

And let's talk about work or school—the mandatory attendance, the deadlines. I want to travel, breathe in a different kind of air, see the world from a different angle. But what about my assignments? My job? Life keeps handing out responsibilities like they're candy, except nobody told me the candy's bitter.

Sometimes, I look at my bookshelf and the titles whisper, begging to be read. I love reading, but I'm not a fast reader. I like to digest every word, live in every story. But who has time for that anymore? Everything's a race—a race to the top, to the finish line, anywhere but here, and certainly not with the people who might make 'here' bearable.

So, here's my plea: World, slow down. Just slow down. I want to be able to walk slowly on the sidewalk without feeling the impatient breath of the person behind me. I want time to read my books, not just scan through the summaries online. I want to sip my coffee hot, not throw it down like it's a shot of tequila. Most of all, I want the luxury to find companionship that fills the cavernous space that is loneliness.

Life isn't a race. I'm tired of racing. We're all just walking each other home at the end of the day. Why can't we make that walk a bit more enjoyable, a bit more meaningful? Is it too much to ask to slow down, be kind, and leave no room for loneliness?

So, world, listen up: Slow the hell down. I'm begging you. Let me live each moment for what it is—beautiful, full, and hopefully, not lonely.