Dear Stranger,

I would like to start out by making you aware that I do not find you strange in any capacity. I don’t know why we as a human race are supposed to automatically assume that a person we don’t know is strange. What’s strange is that we’re supposed to do that. So yeah, unless you are an insane lunatic (which is a plausible scenario, but highly unlikely) I don’t think you’re strange, stranger. (NOTE: Please ignore this statement if you are an insane lunatic)

I remember when I was a kid, my elementary school had a field connected to the playground. And when the treacherous Wisconsin snowstorms hit, small hills of snow would form on this field. But to the imaginative eyes of a 7-year-old, these hills looked like Mount Everest. Enormous mounds of pure white, a thrill would rush through me and my community of classmates as we went on our next adventure. Everything seemed more positive then. Like everyone got along, our perfect president signed perfect laws for our perfect country as perfect adults went to their stress-free, fun and perfect jobs. Obviously, that isn’t entirely accurate. But as a kid, I had that sense of amazement as I looked at the so-called perfect world around me. Sometimes, stranger, I wish I could go back to that time. I wish I could see our government as flawless, our jobs as fun. I wish I could see adults in my life through a different lens, not the realistic lens that shows me who they really are. But, as years progress, it seems that our viewpoints only show even worse things in people, not better things.

Unfortunately, our brains, our weird, weird brains, tend to do that. They take a person and point out all their flaws, while mentioning little of their achievements. I myself have fallen victim to this funny thing the brain does, and in the end, all it made me feel was shame that I would think of someone that way, effectively wasting my coveted thinking time on something meaningless. I mean, look around, stranger. We’re all living on this giant ball of water and grass and sand and snow. You would think it wouldn’t be this hard to do it together, to be a strong, world-wide community that all supported each other. Athens did this in Ancient Greece, with their vibrant democracy full of intellectuals and culture, their theater and art. So surely we as a society could do it too? Look, I’m not asking you to solve this worldwide problem by yourself, stranger. I’m just saying that maybe if we all did our part, we all saw the best in people instead of the worst in people, we could achieve this world-wide community. 

So, stranger, maybe next time you see what looks like a complete moron in a Prius almost cutting you off on your way to work, instead of giving that person the bird, maybe think back to this letter you found. I like to do breathing exercises. But you can access the situation in any productive way you want. Maybe the Prius driver will do the same, maybe both of you will form a friendship. Or, you’ll move on with your days happier than you both would have been had either of you gotten so upset. Or maybe you’re in Kindergarten. The booger-nosed boy at your almost miniature table takes a crayon without asking. Your first instinct may be to cry and call him a butt-face, but wait! There’s another crayon of the same color right there. Using time to think logically before freaking out just made you, the booger-boy, and the teacher who would’ve had to deal with the tantrum have a better day.

I’m just rambling, I know. But I have this thought more often as the world around me seems to sink. Sometimes I wonder how much a small change in the way we handle this stuff will affect the world. Anyways, stranger, I’ll get out of your hair. I know you’ve got things to do and a life to fulfill. Just, please, for me, remember this letter. Maybe even just one sentence from it. I’d be okay with that.

You are amazing,

A stranger