Another Crossover

I guess it's simple to get lost in the crowd. It's simple to sit back and watch. That's not usually what I do but in this case, I am. Not because I want to but because I have to. You see, my life, as of present, is like a train ride. At least, that's how I explain it to my friends. I explain to them how I'm sitting on a train. The seats are standard, not too comfortable but not rock hard. If I position my butt in the right way, it feels glorious. The train isn't going at a high speed or anything, it might occasionally go fast but usually it travels at a leisurely pace. This is so that I can view the scenery but get there on time or, at least, around then.

As I watch the hills and valleys wiggle along the train's frame, I write poetry, sing a long with Mark (my slowly dying Ipod), and other various activities for the traveler. These with the exception of License Plate Bingo, since this is a train ride no where near the road. Occasionally I will glance at my ticket branded with the word College in dark letters, only to see the phrase arriving in remote future at the bottom. I look at the clock but its only a quarter past just the beginning.

As the train crawls along as we past the beautiful scenery which I coincidentally seemed to be looking down for because of a dropped pen or a song change. Therefore making me miss perfect opportunities for sunset shots and pictures of county fairs. Ultimately, though, you can see that I have no reason to complain. Yes, I'm missing the picture opps, but that's my fault. All in all, I got Mark so really I should be fine... or not.

I'm just sitting there, twiddling away time. No one else seems to be in my car, and all my mind can do is linger on my friends, who are probably out for Coffee back home. Joking, laughing, forgetting.

I can't stop the train, and I definitely can't reverse the train. So it is hard to find hope in seeing my friends soon. I'll have to get a round trip then, which coasts money and stamina that I might lack. So, I'm stuck, waiting for the ride to end. I shouldn't be complaining but the wait is grueling. Besides the want for something new, there is a bittersweet taste in the air like the taste of a not-yet-ripend berry of some sort. I have to take swigs of my water just to ignore it.

I have a feeling that within the next month the train will get faster but that's part of torture. The faster you go, the farther away you are, and the more you'll forget their laughter. And though you repeat the jokes and punch-lines in your head their faces become a blur in the grasp of time.

I don't want any of this, but its time. It needs to happen and I understand that. So, here I am with a train ticket, a dying Ipod, the word muffin rewritten more than 20 times in my notebook, and the conductor proclaiming the next stop...

"18th Station! 18th station neeext!"