Tracks To The Road

Forest Gate

02.07.16

It doesn't take long until you crash, it doesn't take long until you lose it. You're lost. No hope. To honest who cares when you give up, you simply drop little things, cross the road without looking because you couldn't care if you were hit or not. To survive or not, it's the world's decision not yours. You forget that it's your life and you get the say, but you aren't brave enough, don't have enough energy, to plan a way to disappear. You know it would hurt other people but it is hurting to stay alive. I sit on this train waiting, waiting for the moment it crashes. The moment it crashes is my excuse out. My excuse because dying, flying, escaping for the reason would just pass it on to another. I can't tell them. I won't tell them. Bumbling bumbling long the tracks to Shenfield, wishing I was home but wishing at the same time I knew where home was. I remember the times I slip away and feel peace. It was so long ago. In the trees, we wandered, friendship forming side by side, a friendship of mutual destruction but that destruction won't happen because, because, because I don't think I could cope. I'm sorry coping is something I only just learning. And then just as thinking I learning, I halt. Halt as suddenly as the train. Shudder forward, only to inch slightly backwards. The stop of the train throws me forward and thump back into the seat. Sprawled elegantly across the seat, not that it matters people are standing up ready to leave. We're at Forest Gate. 

07.12.17

Bloody Forest Gate, I wanted delays to getting home but I didn't want to be sitting here in a lifeless metal cart for an hour trapped. Over an hour left with my mind. I am lost. Until I look at phone and see at message from someone who occupies my mind, someone who makes things look up and I feel better. Only 5 months ago, I sat sprawled against a seat feeling as if the world was going close in. I survived. In those moments, I didn't think I would but I changed everything and escaped but not through death but a different type.

The message made me smile because of its simplicity stating he was 'thinking of' me. Smile. I momentarily forget the thoughts that occupied my mind moments ago and 

I remember the first time, our lips touched, was the first time for both of us but it was also the first time the incoherent torrent of words that is my mind was quiet. I felt happy. I felt at peace. So much as changed since I was first started thinking and I've escaped, no longer as haunted by the hands of a wanderer a stranger who used to be friend, no longer trapped in a place that reminded me or changed me. No longer isolated. I think of my new friends, I don't think they understand how even now 3 months in, I still worry that they don't like but I have give myself a firm speaking to and I know deep inside that it's because of them and because of him, I am happy and of course my mutual destructive friendship is truly the reason, I have been changed for good.