Sunday, November 24, 2013

MRT strangers, random train stops, lost tickets

WARNING: This is full of comeback-post (CbP) drama from me who had been busy NOT blogging for the past few months. 
DISCLAIMER: This is not my real CbP, but I figure less drama for the holiday mood is way way way better. Maybe I'll post my real CbP when there is less of the happy air Christmas season always brings. Yeah, this is "Less" drama. *wink*

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were on your way to an important meeting, waiting for the next train to come. The station is crowded with people you don't know, it's as normal as it can get. Then in a crowd  full of nobody, you see familiar features, so you focus your eyes to see if it also has a familiar face. It has that thoughtful look you used to love, fresh from a frown that used to make you wonder what makes him worry. In a place with hundreds of strangers, you finally recognize someone. And then you looked harder and realized that no, you don't know this person. Not anymore. It feels awkward to realize that he's more of a stranger now than the others crowding him. He looks exactly the same, except for the new haircut and weird get-up, but deep inside yourself you feel he's different. He is no longer the man you used to love. He is no longer that someone that can still make you cry by merely existing. He looks happy. He looks content. It makes you proud and sad at the same time. It makes you ashamed to feel bad about something that is supposed to be beautiful and great. But you can't blame yourself. You take comfort from the thought that 'hey, I'm just human.'

People start to move again. Frantic. The train has arrived. The familiar rush everyone seems to have does not bother you at all the way it always has. Not today, not at this moment. You forgot about you're important meeting. You let them pass to get on the train first. You don't even feel the annoyance you always feels when people looks ready to kill just to be able to go in first. You convinced yourself this one is too crowded anyway, and there is always the next train. There's only a few people now, he's about fifteen steps away. You don't know if you should smile to him, or maybe call out and say hi. It takes a lot of courage to face the very reason you're so afraid to love again. When a person walks away from you without even sparing a glance back, you don't easily forgive them. But then you really missed him... his smile, his smell, his trusting brown eyes... everything. Then he started to walk away before you were able to make up your mind. To go somewhere other than ride the next train. It struck you to realize he doesn't really care. Not anymore. After some time of self-inflicted painful emotions, you were able to make yourself move again. You go with the flow, back to the normal world where you now belong. You still think some of the thought. You still feel some of those feelings. Then you close your eyes and you take a deep breath. You turn on your Mp3 player and shut the outside world out from yours. You decided to come back to your present and let the rythym of a familiar song and the shake of the moving train knock you out from your reveries.

Until the end of the meeting, over frappes and cakes, with people who are never out of something funny to say, you were still trying to decide what hurts the most... that he can walk away just like that, or that you never really believed he can.

On the way back home, it was not as busy. It doesn't make any difference. Yet you know something has changed. You smile to yourself. It was time to move on again.

Hmmmmmmm.

The worst things in life come free to us
Cause we're just under the upper hand
And go mad for a couple grams
And she don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland
Or sells love to another man
It's too cold outside
For angels to fly
Angels to fly...