Train Thoughts

(The events of this short story, as well as the narrator, are completely fictionalized.)

Journal

Just got on the train to London, and decided to start journaling on my notes app. It’s pretty informal but maybe that adds charm or something.

I’m just going to stare out the window, and every significant thought, I’ll write down.

Go.

Are masters of their craft always miserable? Smart people always seem so burdened.

Maybe I should try writing music. 

I shouldn’t lose touch with my housemates. Or are we just doomed to be living across the country, letting years trickle by until we’re totally different people? 

Am I destined to become my parents?

Has fear squandered every good experience I’ve had? Does that include hockey?

Perspective - is it possible to manually switch it?  Like, is it inevitable to become locked onto the concept that inspired me to start writing, and only see it from one specific angle? Or can you force yourself to consider it from the complete opposite perspective, even though it contradicts what made you write in the first place?  Is that something that only happens accidentally, and in turn debunks your whole reason for writing?

These headphones hurt my ears. 

What is the deal with my addiction to acceptance/ affirmations? 

Every English course is the same. Essay essay exam. Why’d it take me 4 years to figure that out?

I’m procrastinating very hard right now.

“Egomania” is a good word. 

Will work ever be my obsession, like Dad? Like working on holidays is crazy.

Does maturity kick in soon? 

I’m not so unique. In fact, thinking we’re unique is something all humans have in common, I think. Or maybe that’s a blind assumption.

What if I made this into a short story or something?

Called it “Train Thoughts?” 

Wait. Now are my thoughts authentic anymore? 

Were any of them ever anyway?

Music makes thinking so much easier. 

Or maybe, I only ever think with music, and it’s actually even easier to think in silence? 

I deleted something cause I couldn’t decide what I wanted to say.

See? Now I’m tampering. This is getting forced.

Mental reset. 

Wonder what the Reedsly prompts are this week.

Looked. There’s one I’ll probably submit to. 

Maybe even that “Train Thoughts” idea.

So I really can’t write anything without craving attention.  

This is starting to feel less and less authentic. I feel forced to include information that’s relevant to some sort of meta-obsessed narrative. 

Does meta-obsessed even work as a term? I just made it up.

Now I’m trying to prove I’m not an idiot in case anyone else reads this.

So they’re not even my thoughts anymore. They’re scripted by what I think someone else might like. About what might win me a few bucks, through dumb luck that someone finds this babbling creative?

I feel like self-deprecation just comes off as a blatant pat on my own back. 

Even mentioning that this nonsense could win the Reedsly prompt is proof that deep down, I feel like my unfiltered word vomit has some kind of deep-rooted merit.

See? I just did it again.

These aren’t even thoughts anymore. I’m just staring at my phone typing.

The guy next to me is looking at me funny. 

Don’t mind me, just manically texting to myself.

It’s only been an hour??

I am now committing to jotting down a few authentic, random thoughts. No more intentional sh*t. 

Diss tracks are just mean poetry. 

How is caffeine legal? 

I should text Grandma. 

I wonder if Reedsly is hiring.

“Train Thoughts” is such an unoriginal title.

Fu*k. Now all I can think about is if Reedsly is okay with swears.

Oh God. Am I going to go back and edit this later? I totally am. 

I should try meditation. Or yoga. 

I think I'll attempt to conjure some more personal contemplations to dissuade me from-

Interrupting that thought because I’m trying too hard to come up with big words. 

Even though I’m probably going to come back later and make everything sound flowery anyway. 

I should brush my teeth more. 

I was going to type something but it was literally just a straight-up lie. This has lost all merit and was a terrible idea. I’m incapable of writing anything for myself, and this is a perfect example. If I have any self-respect I’ll delete this right now. 

How the hell is Lacrosse the national sport of Canada?

Just scrolled up for a bit- this really went off the rails.

That “egomaniac” comment is looking pretty ironic. I only wrote it down cause a song that came up on Smart Shuffle was called that. Now it looks like some sort of premeditated foreshadowing.

Is that dramatic irony? Cause if someone reads this then they’ll arrive at the preconceived notion that I’m pretty self-obsessed with the value of my own thoughts? So they’ll come to the realization that I’m an egomaniac before I even do, chronologically in this text? Before I even finished writing it?

Took a break to get one of the ham and cheese croissants. It is truly awful. 

Jesus. This is meant to be a journal, not a diary. 

Oh right. I’ve spun it into being a psychotic short story with no clear plot or climax. I almost forgot. 

It’s not like I’m even usually this self-critical. It’s just been a really hard couple of months and I feel like my thoughts have been scrambled and this was meant to be for me, not for anyone else. 

And it’s concerning that some of the thoughts that I had earlier (before I got the idea of maybe submitting this) actually reflect the thought process that I have about my own self-worth.

Like, that I can’t enjoy creating anything without any external recognition.

Hold up. 

Is that what it means to be a writer?

Like if my thoughts are articulated properly in a way that details character growth, does that in turn make it a narrative? With literary merit? 

I suddenly feel a little bit better. 

This just got really convoluted. But to me, it just felt like it clicked. 

Everything was just a jumble of thoughts to start but now it feels like the puzzle has come together and I understand why I’ve had no inspiration to write lately. 

Because I’ve been misunderstanding what it means to write creatively. 

Huh.

Fu*k it. May as well just shatter the third wall.

(I literally just had to Google search to make sure it wasn’t the “fourth wall.” I’m such a sham of an English student.)

Ahem. Hey reader. I’m so sorry you had to sit through this. This is not meant to be pithy or deep. It is a straight-up, documented mental breakdown. I'm not sure if it's comprehensible, or even in the least bit engaging, but for the sake of affirming my own self-diagnosed character growth, I think I would prefer this be in your hands as well as mine.

But still, I think I’m going to sit on this for an hour before I do anything with it.