It was me on the train

The insufferable distance closed as he drew me in. He wrapped his arms around my waist and a familiar sense of longing enveloped me. Warm, safe, tender — what homes are made of. Damn, I thought, how did I get so lucky again. I found home. I never met a person worth staying for, then suddenly I had someone I wanted to return to. I sighed deeply. If this isn’t the epitome of trite and cliché…

Ravished by his sudden embrace, I revealed a beatific smile — a heartfelt one from deep within my heart — and in my chest, a psychedelic of fireworks threatened to burst anytime. The rush of adrenaline was repulsive on hindsight but in that moment, I was light-headed and saturated with euphoria. The bliss I radiated was palpable, unmistakable even to the blind.

But that’s what I was — blind.

I mistook affability for affection, solicitude for endearment, benevolence for passion. His blithe disregard for my wretched self was blatantly obvious. Etched in his heart was a mission for utter destruction yet he remained ecstasy to my credulous self.

When the next ray of sunshine streamed through my window 1923 kilometres away, the happiness I grew used to dissipate. It didn’t just vanish. No, that’ll be just too mellow, too merciful. Instead, the euphoria that cloaked me gradually waned. Fleeting, ebbing happiness — the kind I’m destined to have all my life. It faded, ever so gently. Just like how he once was with me.

The comforting voice that I sought solace in has lost its words. One moment I was high on love — that stupid morphine on steroids. The next, darkness swallowed me. Its raucous roar almost deafening, a relentless taunting. That sick, twisted, familiar ache in my stomach grappled what was left of me. The ever-growing, intense fear filled my lungs and crawled its way to my chest with an obstinate refusal to leave. The lump in my throat swelled; even swallowing was arduous.

He left nothing but lingering stains following his evanescence — an unyielding look of disdain in the mirror, and my friends’ assumption that my heartbreak will sink into oblivion eventually.

Memories are easily forgotten.
Photos inevitably fade.
Everything is impermanent.

Everything, but the triumvirate of fear, pain, and how I felt — insolently feel — towards him.

~

Inspired by the novel, The Girl On The Train.