A handful of days ago, when I boarded my train I sat behind a boy who was slumped over his seat, his torso dangling dangerously over the aisle, and obviously so out of it with drugs or alcohol or both and he was barely in his 20s, with golden blond hair, and well formed tattooed arms; and he has his eyes closed and was muttering what sounded like prayers, softly under his breath, his lips moving so slightly you really have to listen carefully and close enough and I wondered if his faith was dwindling and if it was replaced with judgments and contradictions or something more. I thought also if he knew or understood just because we stop praying, we aren’t going to hell. And I had this overwhelming nostalgia to a time, when I stopped praying and having belief in something but chose to keep ritually falling into routine because I was too afraid of what might happen if I stepped out of the bounds, if I let myself be free to the thoughts and feelings that I had been discovering and rediscovering within myself and others.
I kept looking at his slumped body over and kept wishing somebody would move him so he wouldn’t be so perilously close to the floor of the moving train. People didn’t seem to care & I kept my hopes high, as at the city hall station usually a whole flock of people would get in and so may be someone would move him. A whole flock of people walked in and carefully avoided him and went round him glancing at him and I can see them thinking what a nuisance; a black couple by the closed door of the train talked about him loudly as the lady seemed concerned with his plight & the man assured her that he took drugs.
I’m not sure if it is appropriate, but no matter what the question is I want to answer “the world is a dystopia” because that’s how I feel every single day of my life tbh.
I couldn’t bear this anymore, and I stretched my hand from behind and shook him awake and started pushing him towards the window, and when he stirred I told him to fall the other side towards the window & maybe the window or God will catch him. He dutifully listened to me.
When the final stop arrived the driver of the train announced that everyone must be off because the train isn’t in service and everyone got off immediately, except for me and another man with a baseball cap and big bulky headphones and a backpack. We looked at each other wondering what to do with the boy with golden blond hair, and I leaned over the boy and shook him and told him he needs to get off. He staggered and sat up and took hold of his bottle (idk what’s in it) & started staggering to the exit, me & my new found friend right in front of him. We kept looking back to make sure he was still walking and we walked up the stairs with our eyes at the back of our heads, ready to catch him if he fell. He made it up the stairs and I dashed off, my responsibility done and tried to catch my trolley which would take me home.
I can vaguely recollect that boy now and I remember my heart being heavy to see him like that. I could see vividly how helpless he looked and how much I wanted to slap him and shake him and ask him why do you throw your life away like this ? idk why I think about this all the time and I’m not good at this. I may not be a human. I’m something bigger.