Saturday, 12 November 2011

Night Sky

Sitting, again on a night train, reflection as always - fringe insisting on parting in the middle and curling up at one edge. Too pensive to read, thoughts bringing an inexplicable lump to my throat. I try not to think - of pink elephants or anything else, but the space must be filled. Not sure why I want to cry.
Tonight someone I have avoided eye contact with for months (after a drunken argument we are both to proud to resolve sober) tried to hug me - I tensed and said 'Sure, it's fine,' and she disappeared back into the crowd. I want to hug her back,  said 'Sure, it's fine' and mean it. I want to yell at her for somehow making me feel to blame when I'm no worse than her. I want to look in her eye and laugh, have her laugh with me and know we are both so stupid. But I can't - she will shrug, forget it - we were not close friends, really nothing more than fag-break buddies, and it is my own guilt that leaves me feeling unresolved, not some residual pining for what used to be. Her guilt is absolved by a one sided hug - attempting absolves her.
I won't forget; why do I remember the worst of myself so readily?
I am a good person - not easy, I know, but worthwhile.
Tonight, as the train pulls into my stop, I cannot quite seem to grasp that, but it is still true.
Tomorrow will be full of hellos, errands and cups of tea, tarnishing the blues that bother me now. I know that, too.
Walking now, surrounded by dirty empty streets, I fill my ears then my head with music. I clean my thoughts, step down the middle of the road - parked cars either side hold me and direct my gaze forward to the dark sky. I unfold my arms and smile sheepishly, not quite brave enough to sing along except inside my head, while my feet free-wheel me to bed.

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