Transcending Perception.
I wake up, still consciously moving, as I sit in this passenger train's hard yet soft seat. I take off the sunglasses that conceal my overwhelming exhaustion, even though it does no favors for my under-eye circles. Immediately, I am met with looks from all sides, so I stare out the window instead to avoid unpleasant encounters. We are well off into the country as the trees sway forcefully in their windy performance.
Distancing farther away from overpopulated cities, you could not even hear a person scream in this desolate landscape. I felt the need to pencil in my hypothesis as to why mankind thought isolation was a good idea. It can inspire creative energy more easily, but it can also kill a person in days.
My pen rests against the paper that’s due to be scrunched up and most likely thrown in the waste bin of insignificant thoughts. Despite all my procrastinating efforts, I find myself scribbling in seconds. A jumbled mess of emotions that somehow intertwine no matter how much I try to escape the lengthy road on which they take. People say you need wine to write a decent sentence, but it only spills more careless honesty from your mouth.
There’s a reason why alcohol strangles your throat sometimes.
I glance over at the poor sod who’s sitting in the row to my right. He had been hitting the bottle this entire ride, but he soon passed out halfway, ultimately dropping the glass bottle of red wine to the floor, leaving a shattered liquid puddle — thus staining the carpet forever with the blood of held-in sorrows. I can’t help but sympathize with the bastard; the only thing that will soak up his mistakes is a piece of old, dirty fabric. By the sound of his incessant snoring, I don’t think he’ll realize it anytime soon.
My fixated gawk at the man quickly perishes as another person comes into view rather abruptly.
“Is this seat taken?” said a man, referring to the seat that is facing opposite to mine. He had a somewhat wrinkled face that gave the impression that he could be old enough to be my father, and yet, he seemed to have a harmless nature about him as he stared down quite unassumingly.
In fact, I almost didn’t hear what he said as his voice was deep but awfully quiet. I decided to finally cut the developing silence of awkwardness with a light-hearted remark.
“I don’t think the dust particles would mind — go ahead” I gave a friendly smile.
He gave a subtle thankful nod and sat down. I debated on whether this man wanted me to further extend my acknowledgment of him. Usually, my anxiety would be going through the roof as socializing wasn’t my strong suit. I also despised small talk with most people, but there seemed to be an open door waiting to be entered, as I could feel his eyes wander on my face for a few moments at a time.
I promised myself to let this be a non-verbal journey, but I guess the rules were just begging to be broken by now. I unconsciously peeked at him from the corner of my eye. I scanned just long enough so that more of his physical features could become visually clear.
He had short brown hair and blue eyes that showed a pained experience of life. He had a bit of a beard that went well with his face, not making him look too old for his age, which was still very much unknown to me. He was wearing an open army green jacket with plaid and a simple t-shirt underneath.
I chose not to look down any lower for fear of inappropriate suggestions. But with my burdensome luck, it was much too late. I looked up to find him raising his eyebrows knowingly with a teasing boldness, instantly taking me aback. Instantly darting my eyes away, I scolded myself on the inside, wrestling with a shy smile.
“So, what brings you here?” He asked suddenly. “I’m just visiting,” I answered, giving no clear indication of what I meant. Hell, I could make up a whole fabricated story on the spot, and he’d never know the difference.
“Just breaking through the scene like waves.” He grinned.
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“You could say that. I have a habit of making a mess wherever I go, but let’s not set fruitless expectations.” I smirked with a playful roll of the eyes.
“Who knows, could get you somewhere” He joked with an honest shrug.
“You think?” I blinked with a hint of dry amusement.
“Another man’s mess is another man’s treasure,” He elaborated nonchalantly.
“What if I realize it’s my own rightful treasure first?” I challenged, annoyed by his stupid notion.
“Sometimes it takes someone else to show you what you’re really capable of,” He mused wisely.
I wanted to let out a frustrated sigh, but my face curved into a content but defeated smile instead. Here I was, having a petty argument with a random stranger who knew nothing about my life, and yet, he somehow managed to perfectly advise me on future events that regarded god knows what.
Maybe he knew.
The train then came to a halting stop. The man stood up slowly; I guess this was his exit to leave.
“Goodbye,” I farewelled him, feeling slightly sad that I would no longer be accompanied by the mysteriously comforting man.
I sort of enjoyed our small exchange of words. “Good luck,” He replied with a kind tenderness, sharing one final glance before stepping off into the platform sea of strangers. I sat back in the uncomfortable molded seat once more. I rested my head against the windowsill as I analyzed his final words.
You rarely ever hear such words these days, nonetheless, from a stranger. But especially when there’s no context to link it to.
There is a beauty in that, I suppose — just simply wishing for the well-being of someone you do not know. People do that silently almost every day. I came to the conclusion not to let it go over my head.
In the world of today, it’s become an unwritten instinct to be untrusting or suspicious of anybody you wouldn’t typically associate with, constantly assuming that by the cover of the book, you automatically know the entire story. It ruins the pure possibility of resonating enlightenment or a relationship of understanding between two people.
I wonder how many amazing stories have never seen the light of day because someone threw a judgmental disintegrating flame to its pages, thus destroying a wide knowledgeable garden of hope on where so many others could have roamed with peaceful ease. It is a pitiful subject that I refuse to dwell on any longer, as it would ruin my trip of uncertain circumstances.
I put on my headphones to prevent my thoughts from going any deeper, just in case. Familiar voices fill my head, and I find myself nodding off into a gentle doze. I cling to the remaining lyrics that I hear before drifting away as it soothes all unanswered questions that may linger softly.
I wake up again. But I’m in bed. I was always moving.
Music effortlessly takes you to another place.
