Here I am sitting in the tube, in a carriage on my own, full of strangers. Just like we were born, alone, we die alone. Or should I say: we come to this world alone and we leave it alone, and when we leave, we leave everything behind.
Striving to be the best, or a better person to say the least. Back-lashing oneself won’t help the case at all and usually leads one to depression from a side and angry at themselves from another side because they couldn’t do or should’ve done better.
This is my first time to write in the tube, or rather, in a moving place, full of noises and uncontrollable everything. I’m also writing with pen and paper, which I haven’t done in such a long time, even before I even started publishing my writings online. I look at my ugly hand writing thinking of what could’ve gone wrong and why am I doing this? Why am I writing?a
Have you ever questioned everything around you? Even your existence? The world might seem better somewhere else, but it’s not.
“This is a Victoria Line train to Seven Sisters.”