Thursday, April 6th, 2006
complicated
Everyday, after work, I catch the same subway home, at the same time, on the same car. As soon as the clock hits 3:30pm, I throw my coat over my shoulders and head for the doors.
On the subway, I probably end up standing in the same spot without knowing it. I don’t mean to make it a habit, nor a routine, but it just happens. I walk through the double doors and prop myself up against the far subway door, gently peering down the carraige of the car. Everyday it’s the same. People sleeping, people reading, people standing staring off into space. It looks like something out of a movie, it’s the typical “inside a subway” scene.
Life is very monotonous on the ride home. Nobody socializes, nobody smiles. They all just stare back at me, as if work has sucked the life out of them – I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the glass beside me, and I too looked very tired. But I certainly didn’t feel that way. Why am I acting this way?
The doors open at Eglinton, and I see a guy from the day before – he steps in and take his place beside me. As usual, he manages to manoeuvre his way right beside me. I remember his unique look, that moustache that reaches his chin, and that hat. That pirate hat with the RIP symbol plastered on the front. I try not to stare, so I use the reflection from the glass to take a better look. I really didn’t want to talk to him, infact I was a little scared. He could be holding a knife or something under that leather trench coat of his. And so I stand silently, off to one side, until he gets off at North York Centre. It’s been this way for a week now.
I’m sure he recognizes me, because I see him stare back at me sometimes. Must have been because I gave him a weird look the first time we met. Maybe he wants me to ask about his weird outfit. But, in the end I retreat back into my comfort zone. Just like the countless others in this sad train. Will I ever talk to him? I doubt it. Will others talk to me? Doubt it too.
I wonder how many other people I’ve shared this train with. Somedays, I try to guess what they’re thinking. Like why that girl is smirking, or why that guy looks so depressed. But I don’t think I’ll ever find out. I’ll only know what I’m thinking, and I have my hands full with that already. If I was able to tune into other’s thoughts, I think I would go crazy. Ignorance is bliss. But at the same time, ignorance makes us foolish. I just assume everyone is similar myself, but it’s never true.
Everybody leads their own lives. Oblivious to the others around them, safegaurding their own feelings; in our very own fortress of solitude.
In the end, I leave the station and head home, alone. I talked to no-one. I learned nothing about anybody either. Will I ever? Maybe, or perhaps never. We’re all lone cowboys in this urban city. It’s a shame. Life is so complicated and so beautiful, yet all we can see is me, myself and I.
We think we know everything. But we know nothing. I wonder if that will ever change. Scientists are curious about everything, except ourselves. I’ve known my friends for 15 years, and yet I still don’t know everything about them. I never will.
Humans are a foolish race, becuase life is too complex for us to understand. But we think otherwise.
Tweet“For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength”
1 Chor. 1:25