I think a little introduction is needed for this descriptive piece. My commute to work is 90 minutes there and 90 minutes back. During that walk, subway, train ride, and bus, I have a lot of time to think and ponder. Though I'm often half asleep, this punctuated travel period gives me the opportunity to synthesize my feelings and write some pretty raw stuff. Here's Train Ride Doubts:
Self-doubt has taken from me my daily comforts: a ham and cheese croissant from the corner bakery, an unexpected phone call from mom, a walk in the park on a warm afternoon. Like a termite, it nibbles away until I am flimsy and hollow. I try to repair the damage but only manage to patch myself up with sarcasm and indifference. I hide in black t-shirts one size too small and faded jeans one size too big. I’m haunted by that cliché image of the kid at the fair, you know, the one who carries around the balloon only to let it go at a moment of carelessness. He ends up in a tantrum -- ashamed and overcome with that feeling of loss when he finally realizes the balloon is gone forever, just because he let go a little too soon. So I stand still and hold my breath, knowing that every exhale is another dream untethered, floating softly into the gloom.
Comments