As you can imagine, such a facade masks a warrior, an arrogant rebel, an incarnation of nonconformity, or perhaps a quixotic misanthrope. And behind all the labels, there stands me, upset to the last cell in my being about a cup of tea.  

There is so much potential for good around us. So many outlets through which we can help each other and ourselves, yet we waste them, miss them, or stay ignorant about their existence in an attempt to ignore them. 

A few weeks ago, after I checked out some books from the library, I was walking towards a coffee shop across the street to try a new blend (because new things make life exciting), and I was in the aforementioned mindset of being invincible. I had an upbeat song playing through my earphones and I was walking to its rhythm when I almost missed the woman who passed by me. Actually, I passed by her, rather quickly too, because I couldn't slow down. My brain registered her quivering chin and the tears on her face the instant she was out of my peripheral vision. 

And when the registration was complete, my whole body went into autopilot. I was still walking, but my mind was all over the place. Why didn't I ask her if she was okay? Why didn't I ask her to get a cup of tea with me? Why didn't I say something? What if nobody said anything? What if everyone who saw her crying ignored her? What if she hurts herself? 

I was just so disappointed with myself. All that power, all that confidence, all that invincibility dissipated into the unpleasant air around me. I had the power to make a small change. A small shift in the universe, a small string of words, a smile, a brief pat on the back, an offer. That cup of tea could have turned into life lesson, a foundation for the trust I want to place in people, a story, maybe more tears, and maybe another cup of tea. I was given the opportunity to change the cosmos but I pushed it away with the back of my hand in the few seconds it was offered to me. And without realizing, I pushed away the potential and the courage, I pushed away the fearlessness. Because really, how can I claim to be courageous and fearless when I can't stop myself to ask a simple question? How can I claim I have potential when all I can do is to worry and write about the instance? 

I didn't turn around, a coward. I stopped the music. My shoulders sulked. I drunk the new blend without being able to savor the secret ingredient. I looked out the window, replayed dramatic scenes in my head, made it into a problem about me. I didn't go back.