Faces in The Train

The dark side of my mental health has made me into a friendly person.
I know what it's like to feel alone even in the most crowded place. I see faces, but they are all blurred in my eyes like they are passengers in a train passing by. The wind brushes through my skin as the train speeds through the rails, then the brake screeches as it comes to a full stop.
It makes me Feel.
It makes me See.
And it makes me Hear.
But by the end of the day, I never felt seen or heard.
A "hi" or a "hello" could go a long way. I always try my best to say "hi" back, give a simple nod, or do something as silly as a salute.
When technology becomes a prominent part of our lives, I thought it would make my life easier; I could finally connect with people, and they had more ways of getting in touch with me.
When I was in High School, I did not have a phone. I shared with my mom's. The early 2000s had made Group Texting a craze. Messengers already existed, but the kind of phones we used was not capable of integrating that kind of technology together yet. My classmates would get creative with the messages they would send. I would pounce on the first opportunity that I would get every time my mother's phone would ping, and the message was for me. That joy, however, was short-lived.
One day, I heard that familiar ringtone. 1 Text Message Received was written on the pixelated screen of my mom's Nokia 3310. I held the phone with great care. People used to believe Nokia was a delicate phone back then. I pressed open, and the phone blinked, directing me to the inbox. The message came from a classmate of mine. He said, "good morning. I hope you're having a great day." A smile rose from the corner of my lips. My fingers tapped a reply that I was indeed having a good day even though my good day did not begin until that good morning text, then I thanked him for greeting me. His next response made my breathing seemed so loud I could not hear anything but silence in broad daylight.
He said I was welcome and reminded me it was a group message.
What followed was convincing myself that I was overreacting, that I should be glad I was important enough to be a part of his group message.
As I stared into thin air, reminding myself to stop making a big deal out of a text message, my overlapping thoughts transported me to that train station once again. That nine-word text message speeds through the rails and came to a full stop.
It made me Feel.
It made me See.
And it made me Hear.
But never seen or heard.
I was just another blurred face in a crowded group message.
I have never wanted anyone to feel that way since that day. Including a person's name has become my top priority every time, I say hi, hello, or any type of greeting at all.
"Hey, Sarah."
"Good Morning, Professor Young."
"How's it going, Alex?"
During holidays, I try my best to greet every name in my phone contacts one by one.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Ali!"
"Happy 4th of July, Ashley."
"Merry Christmas, Anthony."
Sometimes, I don't even say hi or hello. I just say their name.
"Daisy." I waved my hand.
"Hazel!" I saluted like a soldier.
"Charlene!" Waving with both hands.
A little overdramatic, people can say that, but if being overdramatic can save a person's life, then I will do it over and over again every day. I can't count how many times a simple hi have saved my life. Saying people's names take only a couple of seconds, but it creates a big impact. It is another way of saying that you see them, and that couple of seconds you have given to say the word "hi" is just for them and them alone.