The train took forever to get here, yet it only seems to be late whenever I'm at the station.
Misfortune seemed to keep me good company, but there isn't a thing I can do about that. I seem to have gotten used to it, as lonesome as it was. But, misery loves company, I'm fine with it.
Yes, I am miserable, and no, I don't care to change; at least not anymore. I've given up on trying. Now I just sit and wait, wait for the train as it takes its precious time. It doesn't bother me, because I have a good book to read. From my favorite author, Osamu Dazai, whose metaphorical ways have captured me.
It would be a pleasure to meet him. Maybe get him to sign my book. I've always wanted that, it would mean the world to me. His aspiring words have guided me through life, like the pages were clouds and I was the words, gentle floating through them. It would be my greatest dream come true, just to see the man behind the pen and paper in real life, to see him eye to eye, to finally understand what my life truly means, or if it bares any meaning at all.
Though, long ago, he committed suicide.
"It was a lifetime filled with endless shame" Oba had said. That it was "only spent with lies being told." I have every reason to believe him. I've witnessed that my whole life. People used to laugh and call him "a gloomy guy", but even so, I couldn't shake his words out of my head.
…I wonder why…
The sight of something from the corner of my eye captured me, pulling me out of my thoughts. A young girl, no older than me, stood in the station a few meters out of my way. She had black hair, it was short and slightly messy, but nevertheless, she looked like a normal average human being.
A pretty human being as well.
She bared a small notebook, about the same size as the book in my hand, and a tiny red bookmark poked out from the side, almost identical to the one I had currently- at least it seemed to be identical from afar.
The train was arriving at the station now; I stood up and was automatically displeased as people started to suddenly crowd around my vicinity. I never enjoyed the company of a stranger, I'm pretty sure that no one else would in general. I moved to my left, avoiding the people around me, desperate to get where they're going, not caring about anyone who wasn't with them. I ended up moving to a place where that young beauty was no less than 2 steps beside me.
It was the very front of the train, little to no one was here, just me and her.
The car doors swung open, chiming that all too familiar tune, warning others that it was time to enter.
She casually strolled in first and I followed suit.
I chose to stand; I've been sitting all day today. I popped my book open to my latest page and carried on, not paying attention to the petty things on the subway. I was lost through the pages of endless words; words that mattered to me and would always matter to me. Words of brilliance danced the divine waltz in my head, each sentence dazzling me to no end. I felt lightheaded and happy for a change. I was in my place of enjoyment, my place of peace, my peace of mind.
"You're an Oba fan?" A voice reached out, shaking me violently out of my happy place and back into the real world; a world I despised to no end.
I looked up, regretfully bitterly, at the person who spoke. My expression quickly morphed into that of a normal human beings upon seeing the girl that had called out to me. The young girl, looked at me with curiosity and a gentle gleaming smile. I looked at the book in her hand; Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai.
I almost smiled, but I held it back. "Yes, I see you are too." I said with a friendly voice. "What chapter are you on? I've always wanted to read that but I've never had the chance to get all that far." She inquired politely.
Maybe this small trip wouldn't end so badly, after all.
It was my stop. I had almost missed it because I had been enjoying myself a little too much. Buttercup (as I now learned her name) and I had been sitting on the subway, I read out loud to her my book, and she listened attentively. I finished the last line as the train came to a roaring halt. "Well, Buttercup, this is my stop." I announced, accidentally letting the disappointment in my voice carry on, she looked up in alert, and quickly jumped to her feet. "This is my stop, too." She said with slight excitement.
How perfect. I met a dashing young girl who shared the same common interests as me.
"Which way are you going?" I discovered the nerve to ask.
I was grateful when she responded with the same direction.