A Little Bit More

Trigger Warning: Mention of suicide and explicit description of suicidal thoughts. Graphic content

“Excuse me. This is my stop.” said a lady in a blazer to the hooded man who was standing next to me, or rather on top of me.

He tried to move out of the way as much as possible, which was a whole two inches. The lady tried to squeeze through, pushing the man a further half an inch. After that I lost sight of her, but I assumed she managed to either shapeshift like Mystique or stretch like Elastigirl because I caught a glimpse of her getting off the train. Of course, I wouldn’t have noticed any of those things if this entire ordeal hadn’t placed the hooded man’s rear dangerously close to my nose. How fitting.

I simply stared at the pocket of his jeans with apathy. If he and all the other passengers fell on me, crushing me with all their weight right at this moment, would I struggle for freedom? Would I fight, desperate not to suffocate underneath the unstoppable tsunami of sweaty bodies? Probably not.

The train felt suffocating enough as it was already. Crossing the city from one end to the other, it was no wonder people were willing to surrender every fiber of their need for personal space. It was a necessary sacrifice to achieve their goals. Their purpose.

Perhaps about a fourth of the passengers on the train were in smart suits, holding a briefcase of some sort. We were getting closer to the economic centre of the city, so with each stop more and more suited up professionals were joining the horde on the train. They were all waiting patiently to reach the tall skyscrapers that hosted their dens. Where they worked for what they thought fulfilled them. Gaining prestige, fame or money. Climbing up that corporate ladder, until there were no more steps to climb. Never stopping until the ideal life of success and riches, villas, luxurious cars and expensive holidays became their reality.

The rest of the passengers were dressed less formally, but just as smartly for the most part. My guess was that a good third of those were people working in startups. You could tell most of them by their effort to appear professional and casual at the same time. Snickers with jackets or fancy backpacks were only some of their accessories. They were after the same exact dream as the first group. The idea of the perfect life: success, money and, of course, a remarkable social life. They, however, had chosen a seemingly different way to get there. Instead of taking the long, painful and stiff corporate route, they envisioned an alternative, more creative workplace where they could have their dream job, taking advantage of the newest trends and turning their hobbies into money.

Another third were most likely university students. The safest way you could tell them apart from startup employees were by the student cards dangling around their necks or the notebooks they were carrying. Young people full of hope for the future, waiting to graduate from higher education ready to chase the ideal life like their fellow travelers. Until then they just had to patiently for them to get off the train, since their campus was located right after the city centre.

The rest of the compressed commuters were divided among university, hospital staff and employees of all other sectors. All of them, higher skilled and lowered skilled alike, were there for the same reason. To achieve a fragment of the ideal life. Maybe not the villas, but a nice flat. A big family. Devoting themselves to charity. To achieve and to improve.

All of the passengers had quite a few things in common. The most notable being their addiction to their smart phones. A lot of them completed the look with headphones of various sizes and shapes. Anything to keep them distracted from the stifling atmosphere of the train. They needed to be focused on their goals and not dwell on the claustrophobic and miserable present reality they were forced to endure in order to achieve happiness. The other attribute they shared wasn’t something quite as visible to the masses. They were all fools. Their goals, their missions, their pursuit of happiness, however they wanted to call it, was a ridiculous lie. And they had no idea.

I wasn’t like them. A lot of times I wished I was. But another reality had revealed itself to me. One where success and happiness were a blatant, atrocious deception told to people to keep themselves motivated. A deception that once you realized its true nature the spell was broken and you could never go back to being enchanted ever again. Unable to feel joy. Unable to feel hope. Unable to feel anything but despair.

I tried to be one of them. I tried to hide my true self. I went through university, but instead of feeling like I was improving or finding my way, I felt more lost than ever. My graduation was one of the most awkward events of my life. Proud people were celebrating around me, while I could not find a reason to. Why celebrate a worthless feat that will trap you in huge debts and meaningless, cruel jobs. If you are even able to get one of those in the first place. But I tried again. My Master’s graduation was similar. People toasting to their grand achievements that would change the world, ignoring the truth about the tragic amount of aimless research projects and wasted funds as well as the fact that their courses only existed to make universities richer. I couldn’t participate in any of this nonsense.

The job market was no better. Having to master the art of lying, just to get through hundreds of interviews for the odd chance that you will be offered a torturous job. Why did I choose this job dear interviewer? Why, because I am very passionate about not living off from charity, of course. B=How despicable, to be told by the collective conscious of human kind, also known as inspirational quotes, that you can do anything you put your mind into, when in fact the state of the economy kept branding the majority of people as utterly useless.

Even after getting a job, I was never able to keep up with the circus. Everybody else on the train probably could. But I couldn’t participate in the endless performance that were business meetings, presentations, conferences or whatever else they wanted to name their little shows. I couldn’t pretend not to see how seriously they were taking these meaningless spectacles. They thought too highly of themselves. They had to in order to keep going I suppose. But I knew better.

Was I bitter and jealous for thinking like that? Perhaps on some level. My life would certainly be easier if my brain function in the same manner theirs did. I would be able to bypass the misery and find some solace in this tragic song that is life. Something to motivate me so I could keep getting onto this packed train, like they did. But the truth was the truth and I couldn’t change that.

The last time I was on that train, tears were running down my cheeks. I didn’t know exactly why, or rather it was difficult to explain. Nothing had explicitly happened, just the void in my chest, the desperation and loneliness became so overwhelming that they manifested through my tear ducts. I had lowered my head, not to disturb the fragile mirage the other passengers were living in. Even if I tried to explain, they would refuse to face the truth about their world anyway.

It had been a while since that day of mourning, but this glorious morning I had a goal as well. A goal that motivated me to get on a train where the commuters merged into a collective pile of flesh, in spite of the vast amounts of energy I had to spend to even get out of my flat. A goal unlike that of my fellow clumps of meat and bones. I wanted to find a way to end my miserable existence.

Through my foggy vision I could distinguish the commuters’ faces. How oblivious they were of what was going on in my brain. How neatly packed they were on this train like livestock headed to their daily slaughter. But I couldn’t be like them. I couldn’t exist in this dark senseless abyss anymore. I wanted control.

Another train going towards the opposite direction passed us in great speed. The pressure wave rocked us all gently at the same time, as the one physical being that we were. I wondered what would have happened if somebody made a mistake and instead of the parallel track, the passing train was on the same track as we were. How many of these innocent, oblivious souls would be injured? How surprised would they be to experience such an unexpected tragedy? Would I have stayed conscious for long enough to see the gushing blood and crushed skulls? If I had, I don’t believe I would be nearly as surprised as the rest. I was always expecting to be crushed by a train after all.

I turned a bit to my left and tried to focus out of the window. I had decided that I needed a way out, but I still needed a concrete plan. So far, after a quick internet search, nothing seemed reliable, therefore I decided to take my quest outside. I took a look at the tall skyscrapers that were growing taller as we approached. Gorgeous monstrosities of glass and metal, reflecting the sun in the most pompous of ways, as to declare themselves the beacons of humanity. I used to be in awe just by looking at them. Now they seem like oppressive giants, ready to stomp everything on their path. If I climbed one, all the way to the rooftop, and took one step too many, how long would it take for me to reach the cold pavement? Would I stay conscious throughout my journey? Would it feel like flying or would my primitive instincts kick in and I would scream in regret? They had probably made access to the edge of the building impossible anyway. Another solution went down the drain.

I turned to the smaller building that we were currently passing by. They were almost identical to the one I was living in. The types of buildings where the people inside were almost as tightly packed as the passenger in our train. Access to these roofs was restricted as well. And the one window in my apartment that could only function, only opened wide enough for my wrist to fit through. Very compassionate of the contractors to ensure our safety. Being denied fresh air was certainly worth it. How thoughtful indeed.

The hooded man’s jeans brushed my shoulder for the millionth time during our little trip. I was too tired to resist the pushes and nudges. I let out an audible sigh, not out of frustration, but in an effort to empty my lungs of all air, in hopes I never inhale again. The people in the suits started leaking outside the train, slipping through the rest of us like liquid sand. We had reached the economic centre. I took another look at the giant artificial forest outside. I wondered what would this place look like in a thousand years. Would the buildings have collapsed, creating a valley of endless debris covered in newly evolved flora? Or would the entire city be lost at the bottom of a recently formed ocean? I held my breath again, as I imagined sinking towards the bottom of that dark sea.

The first wave of livestock had reached their destination and now the rest of the travelers could easily have the illusion of being separate entities. The hooded man sat right across me playing on his phone. We were now headed towards the university campus. Which meant we were about to cross the twin bridges. One was for trains, while the other for cars and pedestrians. I remembered the occasional article about somebody who had decided to make the river underneath the bridge their final resting place. Could that be my way out? The bridge was really busy, so I would have to come at night to avoid bystanders getting involved. But something about the black, unstoppable water of the overflowing river at night seemed too violent to me. The episode of Bojack Horseman, The View From Halfway Down, came to mind and I was suddenly convinced that drowning was not an option.

As the doors opened at the train station next to the university campus, the students marched towards fake promises of a better world. If a comet came crushing upon us right at this instant, would people in the future even know that the crater was once considered a lighthouse of knowledge?

The train left the students in their illusions and continued its journey exiting the boundaries of the city. The buildings slowly gave their place to warehouses, which in turn gave their place to small trees. I started to get random glimpses of cars briefly appearing between the branches. Teasing me like wild animals hiding from their hunters. After a few minutes, their natural habitat was in full view as the train ran parallel to the highway. Shiny, colourful bullets of various sizes filled my vision. If one them hit me, how far would my body be thrown? What speed would it need to have been developed at the moment of impact for death to be instant? I had the certainty that bleeding to death on the asphalt wouldn’t be quite as serene as sometimes appeared in films. No, that wasn’t an option either. It would be a very cruel grounding for the driver.

The more I was running out of options the more people abandoned the train. I thought I would eventually get off as well but I kept riding it aimlessly, mirroring my short life. The trees were growing bigger and thicker with each stop. After a while only me and the hooded man were left in the wagon. He was sleeping peacefully to the rocking of the train, but I didn’t share the same peaceful sentiment. The ghosts of the previous passengers and all passengers that had ever stepped inside that wagon were surrounding me, smothering me until I would become a ghost as well.

We must have been alone for over twenty minutes before the hooded man opened his eyes and got up. He lifted his backpack, checked his phone and walked to the door. We were almost at the end of the route, so I thought I should get off too. Not that it really mattered. I stood in front of the door at the other end of the wagon, away from my fellow commuter. As the train slowly came to a halt and the doors opened, I felted the fresh air caress my face. I got off and stood still in the middle of the platform.

The hooded man casually strolled away and I bid a silent goodbye. Yet another meaningless encounter had come to an end. The train departed, but I kept sstanding there looking at the tracks. A scene from Anna Karenina came to mind. I was definitely not going to survive an impact with a train, no matter the speed. And even though it would be violent, by guess was that it would be quick. Would I hesitate to make the leap at the last moment? Then again perhaps the train driver and paramedics that had to collect my dismembered body wouldn’t appreciate the experience.

I stepped back and walked out of the station. It was an old building as if frozen in time for the past century. There were barely any other signs of civilization around it, apart from a narrow path that was lost behind the trees and a sign that wrote “Panorama”. Not having any more ideas that would help me ease my excruciating pain, I started walking up the trail. The place looked completely forgotten. Not a single soul crossed my path as I dragged my feet against the ground. Not that I minded. Thoughts of rabid animals attacking me to feast on my flesh were casually hanging out on my mind.

Overtaken by these thoughts of oblivion, I didn’t realize that I had reached the end of the trail. The coolness of the shadows gave its place to the gentle warmth of the sun. A couple of benches had been placed to humor the hikers that wanted to take pictures. I sat on one them and then I saw it.

The forest spread tall and wide from underneath my feet, all the way to a small lake. The water was still and vibrant. So vibrant that you could see the reflection of the tall snowy mountains as clearly as the mountains themselves. In the far end of the lake, as if manifesting out of the trees, a short waterfall was falling into the lake. It had partnered with the sun to create a tall rainbow. It seemed like the perfect combination of peaceful and happy.

In that moment I made the only positive thought my brain had generated in weeks.

“It’s beautiful”

The pain was still there, but the view before me had managed to distract me from the void that was eating me away. The darkness took a step back in awe. I found myself breathing a bit again. Perhaps, there was no reason to rush to an ending just yet. Even if there was no point, I had decided, I just wanted to live a little bit more. Just a little bit more to enjoy this vision.