I woke up at midnight, somewhere familiar.
Is this the underground, somewhere sickening and sinister?
But there is a light at the end of the tunnel, maybe there is a solution to this problem.
Wait, is it that a train coming up to me? That idiom is not always correct, right?
Why am I here and what is the purpose of me being here? Who kidnapped me and why do I never prepare for these situations?
At this near-death experience, memories are flashing back like a movie slowed down.
Why doesn't this happen when I am sleeping, when I am at my most peaceful state?
Now I am just rambling to myself, does anyone relate to this?
And now I am out of rhyme but I still have time.
Running away is a possibility, but not turning around, would you actually do that?
Congratulate me, you made everyone feels sorry that you exist in this world.
Stop! Thinking is not an option, would you actually like to pass away?
Be talkless. No one is listening to your thoughts, your opinions. You are here on your own in the darkness.
There is no sidewalk for me to walk along to the end of streets.
Run further, not falter. In case I do not understand this situation, my sayings are redundant and they need to be deleted.
That does not mean I need to be brainwashed. My calculations and my feelings are discrete.
That light is going brighter and nearer, then why am I standing here like a cyborg broken down? Run! Do I hear myself?
"Where is the station? Please respond! Is anyone here? Give me a signal if you are here!
Would you be kind enough to help me?"
It is like screaming out at nothingness and the oblivion. There is no answer, just my questions echo back at me.
Finally, I get onto the platform. The train stopped. I get onto the train.
"Hello! Is anyone here? I am feeling pessimistic and terrified, not optimistic and terrific.
I know you do not want to talk to a stranger, but we can start a conversation so I can know more about you.
And we can be friends!" I love lying to myself, there is not anyone here. I am alone under the flashing neon lights.
These lights are blinding me. Phosphenes keep showing up unintentionally, but they are so vivid and colourful, not monochrome and gloomy.
There must be that one person on the train. The motorman! I will not distract him much. That would be harmful and dangerous.
So I run again but like a welcomer more than a passenger. Then I see him wearing a uniform, as usual.
I have seen him somewhere else.
There are photos of him when he was younger that I keep to me, I think so. I pull them out of my school bag.
These are the photos that encourage me to be a better person every sunrise and sunset. But the sun is nowhere to found right now.
Who is he? Oh wait, he must be my grandfather.
The photos are still in good quality even after decades of ongoing wars between countries which my grandfather was a part of. Things have been better since.
He was handsome and helpful. Here is a photo of him helping my parents cleaning up my great-grandparents' headstones.
He was happy and full of life. He was a responsible grownup and at a kid at heart, unlike me.
I hope he forgives every mistake I have done since the day I knew how to walk and speak.
I love those days when I was still free and there was nothing to be worried at.
And he is that one person that I know and that one person I met on Christmas years ago.
To be continued. I know that posting literature on a website based around math and science is not worth it. But it is worth a try.