Train Journey: A Reflection.

A Stream of Consciousness: You have been warned.

Music. It calls to my mortal soul. I sit, as the world around me sleeps, listening to the sounds of music that mean different things to different people in different parts of the world at different times.
The dead of the night as towns, nameless, pass by my window in a whirl of lights and cement structures. The lights comes and goes like a flickering bulb, a firefly in the dark. I can see a washed out moon trough the haze and pollution that makes the sky. Its hard not to reflect on the supernatural, to contemplate the existence of vampires, werewolves, possession and spirits. Harder yet to keep the emotions at bay. The emotions, the feelings suppressed during the day. The love that’s been kept aside for a spell. The longing that’s hidden from the world. The emptiness left when a someone special no longer resides in that void. The joy, of making new friends accompanied by the awkwardness of new beginnings.
Speaking of which, I met with two colonels today, don’t know their names. Never will see them again. Yet, we shared a whole train ride, majority of which was spent in attempting to ignore the snores of the asleep. We shared these moments and when this train arrives at New Delhi Railway station, we will part ways, never to meet again. Yet, united forever in that shared experience, a common factor. Two men. From the same world, which such differing attitudes. Can there really be such a situation.
Paradise. An untouched world. An unspoilt memory. A place where all our dreams come true.
My Romeo, who is currently in possession of my paradise, is so far away. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, rivalled by ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Which one to believe? The pain of being so far away. ‘Close your eyes, escape this town for a little while.’ What town? This state of mind. ‘You were everything to me and I was begging you please don’t go’. How to stop those who must leave? How to move on? I don’t want to move on. I want to stay suspended in that reality forever. And just where do I come off, calling this state of mind a reality?
Realism, I must write 2000 words on realism. How do you decide? What’s real and what’s not? What’s real to me, that blue light over the door, the rhythmic swaying of this train, the loud snoring of my neighbour that I can not drown out with the music… can you, dear reader, grasp this? Feel its reality like I am at this moment. Can I once again revisit this reality when I read this again? Can I recreate the soreness in my knee from sitting cross legged? Feel the irritation at the snoring? Recall the physical effort it is taking me to suppress the longing, the tears that are sure to come if I for one minute stop and think of him so far away.
I was asked today, ‘How do you know when to stop brushing your teeth? When it hurts? Or after you have spit twice, thrice?” Its relative to each person, just like reality. All though making brushing your teeth a metaphor for reality may be a little too far fetched, even for my emotion-ridden brain.
‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’. Stevie Nicks got it right. She claims “when the rain washes you clean you’ll know.” I love rain. Although ironically, I have to bathe after prancing about in the rain. What world is this where the rain can wash you clean? And why am I not a part of it? The pollution and the deceit of the world is brought down by the rain, you bathe in the stale dust of a thousand wrongs and very few rights.
A sliver of light is filtering through the curtains, I can see the dust, its beautiful. I spy my emotion, chocking it. Until it is nothing more than just yellow light. The voice in my head is asking me what on earth I am doing randomly writing what is filtering through my subconscious into my conscious. She, I like to believe that it is a she, wants to know what I hope to achieve through this and all I have to tell her is that I don’t know.
When you’re young, which I still am, you are not at liberty to really know anything. You’re too young, you haven’t experienced the world. And chances are you won’t be allowed to. You’re way too young to. So where does that leave you? You’re too in experienced to know and too young to experience. Where does that leave you?
I know I have done nothing but pose a bunch of questions and barely talk off a train journey, I know is infuriating. In this game, I take no prisoners, only casualties. I’m not old enough to know the answers, or to know anything really.
Love, so far away, separated from me by oceans. I love you and that’s all I really know. Magnified by this reflecting, solidified by this writing, brought to light by this train journey. I am swayed and I move, conform, to the jerks, the swinging. I cope, my muscles working together, to the best of my ability.