there’s something about watching a city from the outside that makes everything feel softer. i sit here with my forehead against the glass, letting the smudged lights smear into each other until they’re just colors instead of buildings, instead of people, instead of all the things i’m supposed to be keeping up with.
today felt like moving underwater. emails, assignments, little conversations where i laughed at the right times and nodded like i was present. but my brain has been hovering somewhere three inches to the left of my body, just far enough away that everything feels a little unreal.
still, there are these tiny, stupidly beautiful moments — the way someone on the platform held their coffee with two hands, the way the clouds were this weird bruised purple right before sunset, the way my playlist accidentally lined up perfectly with the rhythm of the train. i keep thinking that maybe that’s enough for right now. not joy exactly, just… tolerable softness.
i don’t know if i’m homesick or just tired of pretending i know what i’m doing. maybe both. maybe neither. maybe i’m just a guy on a train, writing into the glow of a laptop screen, hoping future-me looks back on this and thinks, “oh, you made it through that part. good.”