Stop This Train

Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again. Life, it seems, moves all too fast for me. I jump on board so quickly. Set myself up in a cute little train car that, for a moment, feels like home. It’s comfortable there. Until one morning I open my eyes to look out the window and suddenly it’s all so unfamiliar. And I am alone. Please, stop this train, I want to get off and go home again.

“Hold on to whatever will get you through,” he sings in a tone that sends me back in time. I hate how music can do that to you.

“Just don’t forget to breath and you’ll be ok,” she knows what to say because she’s been there. And I, in turn, find comfort in her past sorrow. Strange how that works.

“I don’t trust myself loving you,” Wait. Stop right there. How does that make sense? Ah, our view of love becomes ever so skewed.

There are few defining moments in life. Like the point at which feelings of being completely lost turn into a realization that you know exactly who you are, where you are, where are not and ultimately, what you truly want. It’s a bittersweet moment when I settle into such knowledge and know that it’s still just slightly out of reach.

06.09.12