Hello. That greeting right there, ladies and gentleman, contains more social interaction than I will receive on any given day in the hallways of BSM. Don’t get the wrong idea: I’m a fairly friendly person with a fairly non-offending face, but it appears that, despite my best efforts, my classmates very literally look right through me.

Picture this: a brisk, jaunty stroll from lunch to Chemistry, when I’m feeling refueled and rejuvenated, resembling, if not quite a social butterfly, then a social insect of some kind. I see a fellow student with whom I am acquainted approaching from the opposite direction. More than happy, I offer a wave, a pleasant hello, or perhaps a confident nod that I assume makes both of us feel professional.

They just stare at me blankly. Did I say ‘hiya, pal!’ loudly enough? Was the eye contact mistaken for light glinting off my glasses? Slowly, the horrible realization dawns on me that, in a rare occurrence, I performed my social etiquette perfectly, and it’s this so-called ‘friend’ of mine who has failed to respond.

Now, I’m sure I myself miss hallway greetings whilst performing the intricate dance that is bopping and weaving through BSM’s packed corridors. But for someone to blankly stare at me when they’ve seen my eye contact and heard my hello? That’s liable for serious questioning, not only of the quality of our friendship, but whether or not this person’s actually living.

Everyone who’s around me when a person’s facial muscles go into lockdown at the sight of my face knows that I’m likely to get just a little frustrated, yelling, “Say hello to me! I swear I’m normal!” If one of these hallway zombies has ever heard my outcry, they just continued on their emotionless, Emily-snubbing way.

All I ask for is some recognition. Even a slight twitch can say, “Hello, how are you?” or at least, “I vaguely know who you are.” It’s a simple request, yet I fear I’ll forever travel the halls solo, grumbling alone at the oblivious zombie hordes.