The Train

I blinked and then—bam!—another year has just passed. I do not understand anything about Einstein’s theory of relativity. All I know is that the time seems to move relatively fast around me. Everything happens in a rate that I cannot comprehend. Time has been a train to me, and I have been tied to it, moving in a full speed. I tried to keep running but I cannot cope with the speed. My feet hurt.

At times, I looked around. I saw a very beautiful landscape and locked my eyes on it, trying to look at it as long as I could, but—puff!—it’s gone. Sometimes, I stumbled and fell, dragged along the sharp rocks on the railway. Somehow, I managed to stand and run again—for now. Perhaps, that is how it is and how it should be. It comes and it goes. It happens. It changes and reshapes me. One day, I would look into the mirror and mumble, ‘who is this man?’.

I want to stop the train. It is not that I am tired, stressed out or depressed. I just think that I don’t belong. There are better runners who do not have a chance to get a train.

People say that the train will eventually stop. There is last station where I can get off the train and stay there. Others say that there is nowhere to stop. Both the train and I will just disappear. Either way, for better or worse, there is something in me which longs for it.