Exile

I look out the window of the commuter train and I wonder what I’m doing here. Did I make some kind of mistake
or is it for the reasons I told myself or convinced myself?

Part of the plan has succeeded. I’m with my family. I’m working now but a part of me resists becoming part of the Borg. I don’t want too. I keep looking out of the window everyday as if it might one day change and become something different. I listen to my iPod. I try to delve deeper into a book. People look at me, brisk past me, nudge me to get wherever it is they are trying to get to but for some reason they can never move fast enough to reach their destination in time.

Where are they going?

I’m still staring out the window. I’m listing to samples from music, rock, rap or soul. It doesn’t matter. Sometimes I imagine myself moving backwards amongst the throngs of people the way some artists do in music videos but I not famous enough to pull that off. Where is my connection. The chidden give me hope. They are happy and optimistic everyday and quickly forget any painful experience and live for new things good and bad.

The train. My job. Sitting at my desk. Drinking green tea. A drawer broke. I brought it downstairs and the maintenance men came and fixed it right-away. The office lady who offered me chocolates for Valentines day and I declined. I don’t like chocolate candies. I don’t mind cocoa. The administrators who though appear aloof are watching carefully the going about at the office. I drift on.

Now everyone has come down with influenza. When will enough be enough?  Nothing is perfect. It’s hard to talk to people. I withdraw 200 Yen from the bank to pay for my bicycle garage fees.

I just keep looking out of the window.

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