Train Rides and words

-1- Unexpected Stranger

DECEMBER 22, 2010

    6:45 PM    

    My life is a routine. In fact, every day is a routine for me. But I live a very safe life. Nothing strange or questionable ever happens, and when I wake up every morning I know exactly what to expect. I hit the alarm clock twice, and turn in my covers a couple times before I finally step out of bed. Every morning I wake up tired, and it is always dark outside. I can't remember the last time I woke up to the sun resting upon my eyelids, felt the feeling of a new day, or birds singing outside my window.

    I am envious of people who get to watch the sun rise, or follow no set routine each day. They live life however they please like they aren't accountable for anything. They live like they are free. No agenda, no responsibilities, no worries.

I secretly wish I could live that way too.

   Instead, I wake up each morning knowing exactly what to expect. The same people will talk to me everyday. I leave at a certain time, and I come home at a certain time. I will have my camera with my wherever I go, and the train ride will always be a lonely one. The worst part of my day is the end of the day. I will come home to my empty apartment, set my keys on the coffee table and make myself dinner. I will eat very quickly, take a long shower, take some sleeping pills and than retire to bed. And than finally, I sleep. My life is a routine, and this is my life. It's been that way for the past five years, and I never expect it to ever be any different. But that all changed when I met Ben. A spark lit up inside of my that had lay dormant for so many years. He came from out of nowhere and decided to step into my life. The strangest things is, he changed me in ways I never even expected.

    I remember the first time I met Ben, before the accident. It was an unusually quiet morning on the train, even for my early morning ride. It was not yet sunrise and you could still see the stars in the sky. There was only a few people sitting around me, and I was in my typical spot in the corner reading a novel. Anyone could mistake me for a bookworm with those silly glasses I always used to wear. Ben liked them. I did too at the time, until now. I was only supposed to use them for reading of course, but every once in a while I would wear them just for fun. I thought they gave me a chic, yet witty identity, also known as the mystic, ‘librarian look.’ But now I simply use them as a bookmark to mark the pages a read, I can’t stand wearing them anymore unless I am reading.

    I have always made an effort to always engage myself in reading some sort of book at least weekly. Especially the classics. It makes my long train ride bearable. But honestly I have always hated reading, but I will be the first to admit that it is a great away to escape for a while. I used to be convinced by those self proclaimed scientists who invented theories that reading makes you smarter. I don’t know whether or not to believe them, so I have been testing this theory out on myself. No improvement thus far.

    I would never normally never spend this much time talking about books, but Ben loved them so much. In fact, he was a English major at the nearby University. He was still working on getting his masters in English, mostly emphasizing on editorial and creative writing. He always had a book in one hand, and a pen in the other. Ben always carried around this antique notebook that seemed almost seemed vintage because of the elaborate decorating and the way the paper frayed at the edges. The binding is falling apart, and the antique decorations are fading away. Ben is the only thing keeping it together. It is messy, yet heartfelt. Just like him.

    The day I met Ben there were only about four other people in my cart. A well aged man looking out the window at glimmered lights that passed by faster than sound. He looked like a grandpa you’d read about in a heartfelt story. The elderly man clutched onto the edges of his coat with the tips of his fingers. He shook every so often. I don’t know why, it wasn’t cold. But I didn’t want to assume he was shaking just because he was old an frail. I thought that would be rude.