If you ask why I’m so nonchalant, this is the answer I never give
People think I’m calm. They think I’m unbothered. They think I’ve reached some level of spiritual clarity where nothing really gets to me anymore. They admire it. They call it cool. They say they wish they could live like that, untouched by chaos.
I let them keep that version of me.
When my tire blew out in the middle of the freeway, I didn’t panic. When a waitress burned my wrist with a hot stone dish, I didn’t pull away. When my boss told me how easily replaceable I was, I didn’t feel small or angry or afraid. I didn’t feel resilient either. I felt nothing. Not numb in a dramatic way. Just blank. Like the signal never reached me.
If not reacting is impressive, then fine. I’ll take it. There are so many ways I fail at being impressive. At least this one passes as composure.
But the truth is simple. And private. And corrosive.
The truth is you.
It was a Saturday morning. I remember that detail the way you remember a scar. I was drinking a vanilla latte. Parks and Rec was playing in the background. Nothing about the moment felt important. It barely existed. And then a woman named Samantha called me. A stranger. A voice with no face. A voice that will follow me forever even though I will never hear it again. She told me you died the night before. Cold. Alone.
That was the moment my life split cleanly in two.
Everything before that morning feels fictional now. Like it belonged to someone else. I’m convinced I’ve been living in a different universe since then. Same streets. Same routines. Same reflection in the mirror. But the rules are different. Nothing carries weight the way it used to.
Reading this made me think back to the summer I spent working at a beachside café, where the tide seemed to dictate the rhythm of everything. Customers would rush in, order coffee, and disappear into the surf, while I learned to stay calm, watching the waves roll in and out. I never explained why I could handle the chaos with a smile, but the truth was simple: I’d grown used to the ebb and flow, accepting that some things were beyond my control https://theconversation.com/au When a storm rolled in and the whole place shut down for a day, I didn’t panic; I just watched the rain from the window, feeling oddly at peace. It reminded me that nonchalance isn’t indifference—it’s…
Please live life "chalantly" - even if it feels embarrassing, there will be no regrets ❤️
Cry when you need to, laugh a little too loudly in public, when we lose someone close to us, life can never go back to being the same. We just need to get used to feeling uncomfortable with that gaping feeling and pretend to move on until we stop thinking about the traumatic events from before.