Some people go to hell

Map of Hell painting by Sandro Botticelli, mid-1480s-mid-1490s

I never really knew how to deal with people who'd put an invisible wall in front of me, especially people I liked. When did that "like" happen? We met 8 or 9 years ago in Hong Kong, then reconnected in the U.S. Nearly every time I take Caltrain, I think of J. Will we ever meet on the train again? J. occasionally commutes from 22nd Street to Palo Alto and back to the Mission.

It's Friday afternoon, and I’m boarding the shiny new red and white electric train. I take my seat, rest my head on the window, and the train departs. No sign of J. and I sigh. Then remember: I’m allergic to all forms of snobbery, especially the intellectual kind.

I never really knew how to deal with people who'd put an invisible wall in front of me, especially people I liked, - not until I found a therapist. I grew up without walls—where emotions are open, not hidden behind polite distance. If someone likes you, you know. If they don’t, you know that too. But here, people engage without revealing who they are. It’s like knowing them and not knowing them at the same time, and that frustrates me. I try to connect, but the wall holds me back.

I never really knew how to deal with people who'd put an invisible wall in front of me, especially people I liked, - not until I found a therapist. In his rare direct intervention he told me, “You can tell them to go to hell.” It shocked me at first - It's not polite to send people to hell. But he was right. Therapy taught me that it’s okay to let go, to stop trying to break through walls that aren’t mine to tear down. Sometimes, you need to step away from people who aren't available to you.

Now, I am learning not to look for J. on the train anymore. Some walls aren’t worth the effort. Sometimes, the people who matter are the ones who let you in without asking.