JULIA SERRA | OPINION EDITOR
The other day I sat in the CVC with someone I hadn’t met before. We were the only people in the building and we didn’t talk to each other. The sound of his pages turning became my background music. He listened to my keyboard typing. In that instant our stories intertwined in utter insignificance. Neither of us fell in love, neither of us were rescued from an imminent tragedy, we simply existed in the same space for the better part of an hour. There’s a chance we’ll meet again in the grocery store checkout line. We probably won’t recognize each other, but an unrecognized significance will surround the moment. Our paths had crossed and now, somewhere in the sphere of time, we continue to exist together.
This is the syrup that infiltrates the romantic comedy. Sweetened beyond reality, it catapults unsuspecting characters into fairweather disasters of love and missed connections. The idealization of destiny links our universal interconnectivity with Sleepless in Seattle-esque expectations. As each of us gets on in life, we fall in love, build a career and start to realize that the mundane is more realistic than the destiny our media had promised us. Destiny is undermined by false definitions. If life became the romantic comedies we watch in secret, we’d all be in love constantly. Every coincidence would lead us to another soul mate, but the destiny that exists in the mundane is entirely forgotten.
To forget the minor acts of fate that determine the mundane is to undermine the possibilities in store for you. If you focus too much on the destiny popular culture has promised, you lose focus on the smaller but equally incredible connections you will make in your lifetime. Take a moment to find joy in small things. Appreciate the people around you, regardless of if you ever talk to them. The chances of existing in the same place as them are to small to ignore.
Welcome to my destiny, reader. It’s messy and confusing, but you are under no obligation to care about that. All I ask is that you realize that you are here. You don’t need to fall in love with me or offer me the opportunity of a lifetime: just keep existing in the same universe as me. We are intertwined, simply in the way that everyone is entwined with everyone else. Don’t forget that my utter insignificance is as much a part of your destiny as anything else. In return, I’ll think of you occasionally. When I stare at my ceiling, overwhelmed by the size of the universe and the infinite possibilities that lie within it, maybe then I will think of you, at least until your insignificance renders you forgotten.