I don't know why I did it but I got on the 6 am train and sat at the window. Lately, I've been wandering around, flying where my wings take me. The sun was just rising and I was admiring it when a woman got in and sat on the seat next to me. She was wearing a full sleved black crop top with a chocolate coloured high waisted pants along with gold sandles. Her hair was stuffed inside a gold scarf, but I could see some of her thick, black hair peeking out. She covered her eyes with black sunglasses, and it was evident that she was trying not to gather attention. She was probably a celebrity, or a criminal on run from the police, if I had to guess.
She didn't seem to be in a rush, but she seemed very nervous. If it were any other day, I would've been flying all around the train trying to listen on in everybodies' conversation, but today I just didn't feel like it.
I was looking outside intently, the huge, lush green trees passing us by a blur, the water glistening under the hot sun when I suddenly got a sinking feeling in my stomach, a wave of loneliness hit me like a heavy gust of wind, my repressed feelings of insignificance bubbling up to the surface and I felt like crying.
'If I went up to a random person and sat on their arm, they'd probably kill me with no hesitation. I wish I was more than just a fly, I wish I was more...I wish I had more to give to this world than just being frog food. I wish I did more for people rather than just passively listening to them. I wish my life was more than this, I know that in a few days I'll die and nobody would even care let alone mourn for me...After all I didn't do anything big, something to be remembered for,' I sadly thought to myself.
I turned to face the woman. I wish I could know what she's thinking about. I wish I could telapathically communicate to her. 'REMEMBER ME! REMEMBER ME DAMMIT!! I WAS HERE! I LIVED HERE! THINK ABOUT ME! I LOVE THE OLD NOODLES SHOP AND ITS OWNER AND I LOVE LISTENING TO PEOPLES' STORIES,' I'd probably scream to her, but I can't, so I just continued enjoying the scenery.
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I was in the train looking out the window, feeling lonely when I saw a little fly looking outside, too and then suddenly, I got a sudden urge to be that fly. Then I didn't have to worry about my cancer, my music career, or my family. Then I wouldn't have to be Suzie Himiko, the world's largest pop star, then I wouldn't have to run away. For the first time since my diagnosis, the full weight of what is happening to me, what I did, and what I'm doing dawned on me. I'm running away like a coward, as if it would change anything. I'm acting as if I could put my entire life behind me and start fresh, acting as if it could change everything.
I took out my phone from my handbag to atleast look at pictures of my family. I scrolled through hundreds of pictures of me with my producers, with other famous pop stars but I couldn't find a single one of me with my own family. 'No...no...this can't be happening. I got this phone five years ago...Don't tell me I haven't seen my family in over five years,' I thought to myself as I desperately scrolled through my pictures, clinging onto the false hope that I'd find something there. I tried thinking about my family, of my elderly father, my deceased mother, and my now adult brother. Horror ran through my veins as I realised I couldn't picture their faces in my mind. I was still scrolling through all my photos, my phone became hot in my palm, my face in all the photos disfiguring into just a sprial when my phone suddenly turned off on its own, and I was suddenly face to face with a monster who couldn't even remember what her parents' look like. I was sweating, my scarf getting loose, threatening to come undone. All I wanted to do was to jump out the moving train. If I did that, atleast I wouldn't have to face my problems.
I looked at my reflection in my phone again and I reminisced about my life, eleven year old me first hearing Elvis Presley on the radio and falling in love with music. Fourteen year old me attempting to write my own song and giving up in frustration. Sixteen year old me arguing with my parents about moving to the big city after high school and becoming a pop singer. Eighteen year old me actually doing it and releasing an album all on my own. Twenty year old me having my first big hit and getting signed with my first record label, and now, twenty eight year old me leaving behind all that and going back to my hometown in the countryside.
Despite everything I'm feeling, I still regret running away like this, but I know I can't keep making music any longer.
Maybe everything would have been different if I didn't decide to persue music. Maybe I would've stayed in my hometown being a farmer, maybe I would've married a nice boy, had a few kids and kept in touch with my family, or maybe I would've regretted not following my dream. But I don't think it matters anymore.
'I can't fix anything by just feeling sorry for myself and regretting my mistakes. I've got to do something about it, about my situation. If not, then none of this matters. I could go back to my old life, back to making music, and pretending I'm healthy. But I don't want to do that, so instead I'm going to face my problems for once,' I made a promise to myself as I turned on my phone and dialed my brother's number.
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YOU ARE READING
Tales from a fly
Short StoryA woman writing a letter to her deceased mother, A boy finding comfort and company in his friend, An old noodles shop owner having the threat of his shop getting sold due to issues with money, A pop star reminiscing about her life, and regretting he...
