The archive of the forgotten

Atlas is thinking

a few years before he met Andrew

I am not angry anymore, or at least I try not to be. It is easier not to. I really try my best I promise you. I think as I walk over the platforms of the trainstation, I am catching the first train of the day. Everything is a bit dark. I can barely look up while immersed in my own world. As twin sized matress by the the front bottoms is playing on my headphones, I have my light frown I always wear on my face. A cigarette is hanging out of my mouth altough I legally shouldn't. I am wearing a dressshirt, a pantaloon and a spencer. My shoulderbag is sloppily hanging on one shoulder. My eyes are permanently wet with tears. Tomorrow school begins again. I am happy about that, I promise but I feel so hopeless.

I look as the sun is slowly coming up, there is no one waiting on the platform. Anger has been the only emotion I have felt for such a long time. Slowly I began to have other feelings too but sadness that one is still the one I refuse to produce. Instead I am angry, it is easier. And not that I do not allow myself to be angry all I feel is........nothing. It's like my head is wrapped in cotton, It's like people are holding my head underwater, it's like my head is being pulled apart, it is like my memories have been wiped. I am so so numb. I do not feel human, I feel like I am in a dream. I itch the scabs off the narrow cuts on the inside of my wrists. I look at the passing trains. The cool wind of a train reminds me of the fact that I am alive.

I am grateful that I have those strange friend waiting for me in London. Without them I would already be dead. I smile. Another tug of the wind from the train reminds me I could. I could walk up to the tracks. I could wait till I see a train coming. I could look at the headlights as I welcome the inevitable. I would love to die, feel the life slowly drain out of my body. Feel everything ending and hopefully not regret a thing. It is possible, I grab a box of fluoxetine and bitterly swallow the pill. A pill where it is normal for adolescents to get suicide idiations from, how ironic you can commit suicide because of the antidepressant. I chuckle, it's almost as if they're making fun of us. Every time they see you the pity radiates from their eyes but they also have a twisted sort of joy in their eyes. Of course they feel good when they can 'help' something that is under you. Sometimes it feels as if the world is laughing at the people like me, parodying our suffering and playing it down. Before trying to be supportive and pitying us. Choose a side world.

I must seem absolutely insane as I chuckle here on the platform. I have no one I am talking to so what would any sane person be chuckling about? I take a sip of my coffee. The bitter taste comforts me. I smile, it makes me think of my childhood, although the coffee isn't half as good the nostalgia makes it taste a bit better. And it is also probably the fact I haven't been able to sleep tonight. So I would savour every bit of caffeine I can get my hands on. Even if it is coffee resembling pond water. the reason I haven't veen have to sleep is the fact that I have been crying in my bed for almost the whole night, and those tears, they didn't mean a thing. I did not understand why I was producing it. I sit down and wait for the train.

When it finally arrives it is far too busy for my liking. I choose not to sit as it is no problem for me and altough I pay so I can enter first class it's even too busy for that. I look through the wide window of the train while the boring green views from england. There are far too many people, I cannot cope with the fact that they are almost standing against me. I look at the fields turning into forests, turning into cities, turning into fields again. I do not understand all of this. Be on time, everyday the same for half these people. They respect life enough to succumb to this strange will of society. I am shaken from my thoughts as somebody grabs my hand. I look down. it is a cute little girl. She smiles as me as I look down at her and smile. "I am so sorry." The mother says as she picks up the girl.

Surprisingly my frown fades and I smile to the mother. "No problem at all ma'am." she smiles and leave but I feel a tingle of happines in my heart. Children are so innocent, children. 

I am angry. I am still angry I think as I step onto the platform. I want to scream but the normality shuts me up. I am angry that he wasn't there. I am so angry at my father. I am angry I couldn't behave normally as a child. I am angry at faith and I am more angry at myself. I look back at the train and consider it. I really consider it.

Than a white blossom leaf falls onto my I want to wipe it away when I look up. the trees are full of it, it is almost as if it is hope personified. I wonder why beauty seems to try to compete with us humans, it has no use, beauty has already won. Do not make other people jealous because you are so beautiful. We humans do not have the privilige to be clean, we are filthy, dragged through the mud and this we are blessed. I smile but that is another conversation. I wish I could be a blossom, I want to bloom and grow and be beautiful. Before I fall to my ultimate death as I wither on the ground. I realise that I am not so different from the blossom. The only difference is the adoration they have for the blossom.

Just another writing excercise. Don't really like it might delete it.