to everything - turn turn turn

Long train rides fill me with a certain melancholy. They are times of introspection, of reflection on the things that I have done, the decisions I have made. Reflection on who I am as a person and who I wish myself to be. We are none of us perfect, that is certain – and when faced with our greatest fear we are all vulnerable, and naked. It is not a time of confession for me – I do not believe in sin, only human faltering. Human misunderstanding. Human miscommunication. These long train rides are more of a cleansing – a dusting off, a shaking of the sheets. I find it helps me breath better.

Regret is perhaps the one thing I fear above all else – I would rather not have it in my life. I have tried to live without it, and have acted to shield myself from it. Perhaps because of this I tend to dwell on things and over-analyze situations, perhaps because of this I am more cautious in my ways. I don’t know – but this way has brought me here, and I am happy with the view.

I think back on all the friends I’ve had, their faces reflected in the window some sharper than others. I think back on all the women I’ve known, and remember their touch some softer than others. I think back on some of the pain I’ve caused people, and some of the joy. I grimace at times – at times I smile.

And again I feel that heaviness of time like an iron shawl around my shoulders, pressing. I look from the window and see things passing by. I see all the streets I will never walk, look through windows into rooms I will never pace. There is a park I will never run, there a café in which I will never write. They are silly thoughts, I know – pointless. But still they haunt me.

Then the train pulls into the station, and I close my eyes and breathe in deeply and feel that much lighter.

And the doors open. And I step outside.