riding trains

thoughts on an oddly lonely train ride

The train ride home is loud. Everything around me has been loud for the past day and a half; I just want some peace. Some quiet.  I haven’t truly slept since about 30 hours ago, save for a few minutes here and there, and now the Amtrak is filled with young children, all yelling to each other.

Ten minutes out of the station, I know I am not finding rest on this ride home. Instead, I curl up in a ball next to the window, hugging my knees to my chest and wonder why I am feeling so lonely. My friend is across the aisle in another seat, and though he is asleep, I am not alone. I try to distract myself from my feelings by watching the scenery flash by, but it’s quickly becoming too dark outside the train to see anything but my own reflection.

Twenty minutes out of the station, I am staring myself in the face.  My hair falls in static-tangles around my shoulders. My eyes look heavy, they’ve got dark circles under them. My lips are bright pink where I've bitten and ripped off the dry skin. The expression on my face looks…desperate, almost. Who is this girl? This is not me simply tired. This is something bigger. Something heavier.

Twenty-two minutes out of the station, I think back to our fight the night before. I am still cringing at the thought of it. I cannot tell if I am upset at him or upset at me or upset at us both, but any which way it’s there in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t heard from him yet; is he still mad? I haven’t contacted him either, though, so I guess I can’t be too upset. I keep checking my phone, only one or two minutes apart. I am losing my mind. Am I? Is this what it feels like? I stare back at myself until my vision goes blurry.

Thirty-five minutes out of the station, my vision is blurry because it’s clouded with tears. My mind is stuck on our fight, yet another where neither of us say anything but still manage to stab at the other with expert precision, in the exact location to unravel our sanity. Another fight I fear is my fault. I am always doing something wrong. I need to learn to think before I speak; look before I leap. Etcetera.

One hour out of the station, I am laying on the seat, staring at the ceiling. One hour and ten minutes out of the station, I am dreaming.