nothing ever ends poetically.
all beginnings and endings
are bloody and raw.
none of this is supposed to be pretty.
but they were supposed to fix the seats. the one our protagonist continued sitting in was rickety and wobbly.
i don't understand why someone would adjust to that.
this time however
our train took a different path.
from the window, you could see the rain water slope down against the glass and when the
train passed through you could hear the leaves hit the metal body.
the path was cosy and a little cold, but the train provided blankets.
the path was too distracting for me to remember how this episode started.
-
the innocence in the eyes reminded our little girl of the boy she had eaten alive.
but there was something else.
something she couldn't put a finger on.
she knew not to read between the lines now, so she ignored it like the mosquito bites she had been getting.
she sat in a different seat for a change,
but the passenger always sat close to her.
instead she wondered if the new passenger knew how intimate rain was to her.
and deep deep inside she told herself
dear god don't make me regret this.
i think god might've been slightly irritated by this seeing how she admitted herself to reason than religion.
but when she recognized hunger in those eyes,
her heart sank a little.
still floated of course, but
sank a little.
so she left her body once again and spoke softly in her mind
im afraid of falling in love
because youll make me feel like im on the top of the world and
thats a long way to fall
and somehow
someone heard it.
-
our little girl heard this
in
her voice
i love you in the way an abandoned house might love a person who had stumbled upon it
with sheer desperation and a sliver of hope
and that is when the window glass started cracking.
but the passenger said
i'm good at fixing windows.
i'll fix them up in our house too
you won't have to.
i'll fix you up
you won't have to.
or maybe i have writer's bias.
either way, a thief should never be told that luxury is hers
because then
she starts to personalize things that aren't hers, not preparing for the guilt that she usually knows comes after.
later
it just feels like a white hatted betrayal behind her back.
just like one felt long ago.
that reminds me of something kafka wrote to milena-
perhaps it isn't love when i say you are what i love most
you are the knife i turn inside myself
this is love
this, my dear, is love
-
it must be so nice to forget time and to forgive life. to her, that was the train ride through the forests.
but she knew the forest ended somewhere. or else the whole of earth would be rather pretty.
sometimes there is a clinical satisfaction in seeing how bad things can get.
and sometimes she knew she was betting on a loss.
i wonder if the meaning in that thought dissolved when she watered herself down with all the pretty empty words.
moreover, our protagonist always did have a habit of idealizing pain.
from where she came from, pain was inevitably born in every house
one had to learn how to give reason to it, to survive.
when she saw the blue colouring itself in again, she made the excuses for her own self.
and the mistakes got worse
but she knew how to write
so she wrote all the explanations herself.
in a cruel satirical way, she was making amends to people.
destroying herself this time, the way all those travellers wanted her to.
destroying herself, to ask the traveller to make the journey with her this time.
oh but this story wasn't hers to write.
wasn't hers at all.
-
there's a sickening feeling of familiarity
when the wrong person knows you too well
and you know them too well
and they weren't always the wrong person.
the passenger looked disfigured now. she did not resemble any of the travellers our protagonist had seen before. and everything was so blue.
she could no longer sit in her seat because other people kept taking it before she could and she always sat right in the front.
the train had left the rainforest, and ran through tunnels again.
the passenger had killed a frog.
and she hadn't slept in weeks.
-
the girl wondered why the train wasn't stopping. still she didn't dare sleep.
because if she did, her passenger would leave.
the passenger.
she was scared she would hate her if she didn't keep on loving.
all passenger did was look through the window with longing in her eyes to escape.
but did smile back at times.
and when the tunnel ended under a dark sky
said
im here
always
yours
love
as the author, this looks like a fucked up story about a killer and a burglar.
-
turns out our passenger intended to ride the train through the forest for the experience.
it is beautiful, that journey.
she didn't intend on the rest.
still, absquatulation seemed cleaner than sawing a door into the train wall.
the girl was more hurt than angry.
and the repairs almost took forever before the train could run again.
the train wasn't very happy that it was stopped before it did on its own.
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