Our Deepest Fear

Is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

I love that speech. I really do. But normally I feel more inadequate than powerful beyond measure. It makes me wonder.

Today on the train sitting across from me there was a girl. She was about my age, maybe a few years older. We sat in silence as everyone on the train does, and then she started crying. She was quiet, though, it took me a while to notice. Huge tears and long eyelashes. In a way it was beautiful, you know (She was a pretty crier; I really envy those. When I cry, it’s just a mess.), like something you could write a song about or something. Well, it occurred to me that I was completely helpless to do anything to help her. For one thing, I didn’t know why she was crying. I figured it was something significant because it takes a lot to cry openly in public, but in a way that didn’t suggest that she was seeking attention.

Now, everyone is different here, but if it were me, I wouldn’t want to talk to a stranger about it, whatever it was. So I didn’t ask, I just looked down. But let’s just say that I somehow knew, just knew, that she’d want to talk about it. I really don’t think I’d have the courage. Because it’s culturally frowned upon to acknowledge vulnerability, isn’t it. We cling to pride so blindly.

I wanted to say something vague enough that it might mean something. Dramatic enough that it’d just sound stupid unless you were there, like, “take courage, sister, help is coming.” I couldn’t, even though I wanted to.

I thought maybe I could give her a tissue considering I had one with me. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself do that, either. Eventually she got off on a stop before mine and I just watched her go.

Why?