The Train Stories: His Foggy Eyes

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We are attached to false feelings of belonging. We become addicted and we forget what it truly means to touch another persons life. The man sitting beside me clearly has the wrong idea.

(One year ago)


I can’t remember why the man sitting next to me had the wrong idea, but I keep getting reminded of how easy it is to become infatuated. When reality comes knocking, you feel ashamed of how blinded you had been and wish you could have been more in charge of your feelings. Cloud-9 really knows how to fog up a persons view. So whatever the man sitting next to me was doing, it’s okay because we are all human. From recent experiences, I now know how easy it is for the path to become blurred.

The Train Stories: No Sleep

photo-120“There is no sleep in this life” is what I wrote next to this image that I drew sometime back. We are constantly moving. Constantly changing. Constantly trying to better ourselves while failing twice as much.  Today I came across two quotes that stood out to me.  One from the movie, “The Chosen”. A beautiful movie. In the film, the father is working hard on his project,  and his son wants him to rest. With that, the father replies, “Only a life of meaning is worthy of rest”. That hit me. He is pushing himself to the limit and fighting for what he believes in. What does my life mean? I am here complaining about things with no depth while I could be working harder. Along with that quote I found one by Leonardo Da Vinci: ” I have offended God and mankind because my work didn’t reach the quality it should have”. With those two stuck in my head, I feel ashamed. It is too easy for me to slack off and not do anything. I can only hope that someday I will be worthy of my rest.

The Train Stories: The Lone Scientist

photo 2-13I loved science. I wanted to go into a field I loved, but gave it up and decided to make the more conservative choice tp work in an office every day for the next 30 years. As I doze off, I dream of a time when becoming a scientist was a reality for me. It all seems like pieces of a film reel, showing me a past life of mine- one that I can not go back to . I simply obey the orders of each person around me while ignoring a cry deep within my soul. A cry thats screaming and gasping for air. The side of me that I buried myself.

The Train Stories: That suppressed smile of mine

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If you are wondering about my suppressed smile as I read my emails- its is from my true love. Yes, just like the multiple Disney movies that I have seen, I have finally found a Prince Charming to call my own. A fairy tale world made up of constant emailing and sweet words whispered into my ear as we make love. Little do I know that my emotions are putting up a wall that I think I am protected by, but can tumble easily with a  few drinks or a lapse of judgment. What feels like security, is actually a relationship so fragile- hanging on by a thread. He is worth the risk though, because my feelings of bliss with him means more to me than the world.

I am selfish- I only care about myself. And worse: I care about my present self. I have no sympathy for the future me and inevitable pain that I will feel. I ignore it all and keep smiling that suppressed smile of mine.

The Train Stories: The girl from the North

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I dance with my cello.

It sways back and forth.

Just like the way I’d hold

The girl I met in the North.

I’d give her melodies of detail.

My fingers that jump along frets.

I gave them to her to hold.

It was the letting go I regret.

So today I use this bow.

To someday play you back.

I now write songs of white,

Instead of those I had painted black.

The Train Stories: All he sees

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She had a nice fishtail braid and a hat on her head.

She had a feeling of travel but only traveled locally.

This kind of woman likes to appear exotic, but actually doesn’t go anywhere.

She has her cellphone out, messaging the sixth boyfriend in a row in three years.

He is the sixth one that doesn’t care about her.

All he sees is the fishtail braid and the hat on her head.

Her true heart is forever hidden because she refuses to show it.

Being fake is just easier in the present- but in the long run it deadens your soul.

The Train Stories: On the left, on the right.

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The Man on the Left:

Just tell me already. My eyes tire and my soul becomes silent. I start to watch the world around me as if I am watching a movie. Sometimes I find it interesting. Sometimes I find it funny, but other times I look at it as if I am watching a bad German art film. I have nothing to say. A for Effort to all those who think they are actually trying.

The Woman on the Right:

She has a bobby in her hair. She’s wearing a suit with white tennie shoes. She has a bag from a cosmetics brand and a polka dot purse. She looks young but she is telling me that she wants to be a mother. But no one will notice her. She doesn’t mind too much though, because her mother still packs her lunch boxes.