Blinded by nostalgia

Once again, the train was late. The jacket I was wearing seemed useless, as what appeared to be a chilly October weather ended up being strong enough to nearly numb my face. The warmth of the sun was long gone, leaving me shivering on the platform. But there was no other choice but to wait.

I had lost track of time while I was getting ready earlier. Time appeared to move slowly, or perhaps it was my perspective of time that notoriously changed. Believing that I still had some minutes to spare, I sat down and listened to music, something I would usually do since it was very uncommon for me to be expected somewhere else. But today was not one of those days. This sudden forgetfulness disturbed the bliss of this morning. Once I realized that time had gone by and my train would leave in a couple of minutes, my thoughts had no time to be verbalized. My hands hurriedly grabbed my bag, and the bleak weather instantly greeted me. The moment my feet landed outside, the door closed with a thud and I ran to the train station with my heart threatening to leave my body at any time. My heavy footsteps disrupted the quiet morning. Reaching the train station just to see my train leaving was a possibility, but the reason why my feet moved on their own was unknown to me. I tricked myself into believing this journey would impact my life, or that my future would drastically change somehow. The houses and streetlights were passing by the same way the clock was counting my breaths. I got to the platform just in time, only to find it empty. There was not enough time to wonder why as a monotone voice took over the speakers announcing that the train would be late. 

The sun was still asleep, and so was the city. There was no information on how long it would take for the train to arrive, so the only option was to wait. I applied what was left of my chapstick onto my lips, but its effects were barely noticeable. There was a bench near me, but sitting on the ground covered in leaves fit the setting. A sigh escaped my mouth, and silence took over the platform once more. Cross-legged, cold, and with the company of crumbled leaves, I waited for the sky to catch up with my mood. 

The hectic mornings I previously had ended around four months ago. In the beginning, waking up with nowhere to go was painful. I got used to it. It didn't take long for the mornings, afternoons, and nights to became one. I assumed that finally having something to look forward to would be exciting, but as of now, it's nothing short of irritating to experience. The quietness of this early morning made it more tolerable. As a single page of yesterday’s newspaper danced with the wind, I recalled the time where waking up early brought me joy. I used to work in a small coffee shop, the ones that are hidden in the middle of magnificent city buildings. Unlike the outside, the interior was warm, inviting, and many customers would go inside to have a hot drink. As the door slowly opened and the smell of coffee invaded their nose, the grey clouds and cold wind were forgotten. I would often choose some songs that would be played throughout the day. Some people would react to those playlists, gladly showing that the melodies were bringing them bliss as they sipped their drink. While some would quietly hum the words, others would ignore and continue their conversations. Still, music filled the air without any effort, and it was a necessity. It felt like an old crumbling memory that somehow made its way bit by bit in each leaf. They were dancing near my feet, waiting for me to piece them together and remember the life I had just four months ago. 

With those playlists in mind, my frozen hands swam inside the bag seeking the object that held a library of songs. As I left the house so hastily, this item could accidentally be on a table, laughing at my sudden realization. Luckily, it was here. The loud sound of my rings hitting the screen proved it, to the point it made me momentarily forget the cold. Believing that our only source of warmth is conversations or seeing people is like wishing for an everlasting heatless fire. 

A simple phone can carry much more than contacts or text messages. From The Beatles to the Arctic Monkeys, one single playlist can transport you to different times and locations. The café I used to work at was in New York City. These songs used to be the soundtrack of my mornings. New York is known as the city that never sleeps, but I see it as the exact opposite. One can see it as living in a constant state of nostalgia, a feeling of longing for what is in the past. But, then again, if you still think about those things they were never really left in the past. Perhaps there is a sense of safety that comes with being surrounded by old memories. Over the years, this thought created a tangle in my mind that appears quite impossible to undo. Who would want to willingly stay in a place surrounded by what no longer exists? 

A harsh, metallic growl signals the arrival of a deteriorated carriage and snaps me out of my thoughts. I wouldn’t have minded if the train never arrived. The train itself is anxious for retirement. I reluctantly get back on my feet, the doors open and a row of empty seats greets me. At least I have a guaranteed window seat, all to myself. I wrap my thin jacket tighter around me and slump into the seat. My tangled headphones didn’t bother me at all, so I simply clicked on shuffle and patiently waited for the scenery to change. In the end, all my moments of solitude are filled with music.