Today I met an angel.
I'm afraid I may have exaggerated slightly there. Of course, I didn't see an actual real life angel. Much to my disappointment, they don't exist. Wouldn't that be nice though? To think that up there in the sky, sitting on little puffs of air and water, are hundreds upon thousands of beautiful people. Radiating a light that is so unnatural that it constitutes as beautiful. The songs they sing soothing the sadness and anger in the world and instead replacing it with love and purity.
D'you think that world will ever come, Diary? D'you think that sometime in the distant future, the people who left this world through means that were so upsetting to those down here on earth, will come back to join us in a new form that is simply unfathomable to us mere humans? I'd like to think so. In fact, I do think so. I think that someday, there will be angels. Maybe not just yet. But there will be. I can feel it.
But that isn't what my point is. My point, Diary, is I met someone that most definitely deserves to be in the same rank as these mythical creatures that reside in your pages. The ones I doodle in the corners along with tiny penguins and stars and flowers. But he wasn't a mythical creature. No, he was just human. Just a simple human being.
I've seen him before. I see him every day, actually. We catch the same train in the morning. I get on at North Ealing Station. He gets on at Acton Town. And then we travel together all the way on the Piccadilly Line to South Kensington. Get off that and get the Victoria Line to Victoria Station. And this is where we part ways. Five days a week.
Is it sad that I used to look forward to it? Probably. But then when I tell you that when he wasn't there, due to some unknown illness or holiday or something that I could never actually tell you without directly asking him, that will make you think I'm even sadder. But you haven't seen him. And you haven't felt what it's like to just sit in the same carriage as him. Knowing that he's there, sneaking glimpses at him conspicuously to make sure that he doesn't notice me. Watching the way he bops his head to the music, taps his fingers against his knees, getting totally immersed in whatever song is blaring into his ears. It's magical. And I was happy doing just that.
But he sat next to me today.
There was no other seat. It was manic, and the only place he could sit was next to me. Call me pathetic, but I had to stop myself from wheezing when he sat down. And when he smiled...I just can't tell you how stunning it was. I've not seen him smile before. That was the moment I decided he could be an angel.
And he spoke. He spoke to me, Diary. Like, actual words and everything. You know what? He's Irish. Irish! How did I manage to speak to someone with such a great accent? I mean, seriously. I'm always with guys that have either a really pompous accent that I tolerate because I like them, or they sound thick as shit and I tolerate that because they're good looking. But no. Today, I met the perfect accent.
We talked about nothing in particular. He said he'd noticed me on the train. Put my poker face on at that point. Played it cool, when inside I was screaming like a little girl. And we didn't stop talking until we got to our stop. I was so upset. How rubbish, huh?
But d'you want to know the best part? He wants to see me again. I mean, outside of this little metal tube. He actually asked to have a drink with me. Not used to that, I have to say. I'm used to...well, you know what I'm used to. So to have a change is really refreshing.
Told him I'd think about it. Of course, there's no question about my answer. But you know what they say. Keep it mean, keep them keen. But I gave him my number. And got his in exchange. I was so tempted just to text him 'YES YES YES' straight after he left, but that's a bit creepy and overbearing. I'm not that person in the slightest. So I left it...
And I got a little text from him as I turned the corner:
'Don't keep me hanging, Train Girl xxx'
I bet you can imagine my face at that! Especially when his name popped up as 'Train Boy' on my phone. Bastard didn't even tell me his name. Then again, neither did I. But that's okay. I'll tell him when I see him next.
I still haven't text him. I probably should. In fact, I'll do it now. Don't want him to totally go off me now, do I? Definitely not. Not that I think he's into me. That would be silly to think...
But hey. You're my Diary. And in you, I most certainly can think that the Train Angel is interested in me. And you won't judge. Or mock. Or anything. You'll just agree in silence. And that's what I love about you. You're my best friend. And probably always will be. And I don't think I'll ever stop writing in you. Not until the day I die.
The day that I become an angel too...
But I'm too busy for that! I've got a cute, Irish human being to text! Wish me luck! Love you loads.
Clara x
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A/N - Hey guys! So, I thought I would start this up now. Watched a few films that gave me some inspiration and I couldn't hold back any more. I'll be writing Rusty Halo at the same time as this, alternating between the two. But yeah. This is the prologue. And this will be dealing with a very touchy subject that is relevant to probably everyone in the world. And I really hope you'll stick with me through this. So yes. Here it is. Hope you enjoy it. Vote, comment, do your thing. Much love x
