Quiet Catching Up
Writer: Libby Pierce
Editor: Maisie Page
After countless hours of watching movies on the couch, my friends began to drift into different plans during the late afternoon. I sleepily strolled to my room and changed into running clothes, preparing for an endeavor I thought I should take on alone after being surrounded by company all day. I remembered how one of my friends and I had talked about working out together that morning and studying in the afternoon. The plan had largely succumbed to the appeal of couch loafing and the Hunger Games saga, but the prospect of going on a run together still lingered. I struggled to decide whether I should reach out. I was pulled towards being alone, but I couldn’t help but imagine how I would feel if she had gone about our plans without me. I shot her a text, even though I felt like sinking into my own thoughts.
Lifting the corners of my mouth into a smile seemed to require more muscles than usual. Whenever I searched for something to say, my brain just shrugged. She met me by the door with running shoes tied tight. I thought about telling her how I had debated going alone, but every time I started the sentence, my brain suddenly protested. At last, I got the words out, and without hesitation she told me to go ahead. I stepped outside and started my run, but each step felt heavier as I got farther from the promised plans I had with my friend.
The sun was setting around me, and my music offered to fill the silence without asking anything in return. As I settled into my pace, I spotted my friend in my periphery. I removed my headphones and she explained that our other friends didn’t want to run to the gym, but she would keep running ahead so that I could continue alone. I laughed under my breath and held out an AirPod. We fell into a rhythm like this had never not been the plan.
The melodies split between us as we ran, and I had long given up on asking my brain for talking points. My friend soon started chatting about stories from her day and her plans for Thanksgiving break. The tension in my head and chest quickly released as I smiled at her anecdotes and my breathing became less laborious. As we rounded the next corner, the fatigued part of me that wished to be alone felt far behind us. We slowed down at the crosswalk, and I told her that I was so glad she caught up with me. I felt lighter, and my brain was no longer arguing with my body about moving, breathing, or existing with others.
I’ve always told myself that I require long stretches of quiet to recharge, more than the average person, and sometimes worried that this made me hard to be around. Yes, I do need time to curl up in bed by myself to let my thoughts settle down. But more often than expected, I’m finding that certain people can untangle my overthinking and refill me just by simply being there. With the right people, you don’t need to be perfect or “on”. You don’t even need to say much. All you have to do is show up, reluctantly or half-asleep, and that can be enough.
