I see the people on the platform here now. Some stand up so straight, so stiff. Their faces are still, no expression.

Some are in a rush or just anxious. Of getting on the next train, the next plane, the next bus, there’s always a next something.

For the first time in my life, I feel like moving my head to the right and to the left is happening in slow motion. As if it’s heavy, as if I’m carrying a weight on my head and on my shoulders. I turn, this seems very slow to me, I see people with headsets on, blinking to the music. People dressed up in suits, people in tracksuits, jetlagged and tired. People hoping and waiting.

There’s an army of them. There’s so many of us. Waiting and hoping. It’s the first time in my life also that I see everything around me in a blur. Through pain.

As if someone dies. You know? Suddenly. And they disappear.

I’m on this platform now. Am I? Am I imagining it? Is this like a parallel life I’m living now?

I never imagined this moment. And maybe I should have, you know, so that it wouldn’t hurt so much. I actually never imagined hurt from you. Weird right? But I never did. Somehow in a weird way I trusted you and somehow this moment never appeard in my mind.

I’m in this plane. Now. Seats empty next to me. But even if they weren’t, I’d still see them empty. I don’t have any other image of how I see the world now. When I go to bed. When I wake up and it’s just me. When these white sheets hide nothing. Empty. As if someone punches a hole through your stomach or as if someone tears apart the sunrise. Ripped. Hurt.

I’m standing here now.

 

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