There is something in a Sunday that makes the body feel alone, but today isn't Sunday and I don't feel alone. If I feel anything its crowded. I am standing at the edge of the subway platform at Main Station looking at the black rails and carbon covered garbage. I'm wondering what I'm doing and where I'm going. I'm wondering what the point is, but I don't really know which specific point. So I try to shrug it all off and get lost in my surroundings - right - stay creative, stay distracted, stay focused on something else besides the here and now. Live outside yourself and hope you find what it is you are or, the meaning of "you".
O-Oh, here I go again. It's starting. The open drop and still air of the station seems to help me loose my feeble grip on reality and I start to wonder what it would be like. To - you know - do it. I think that maybe I know what goes through people's heads just before they jump. Maybe it is the same stuff that is in my head. Maybe I am just one instance away from it just like they were; just before they jumped and turned themselves into a knotted rag of flesh and bone. To turn into garbage. To turn everything into nothing in an instant.
The air is always so warm and thick in here with echoes of sour milk. Fuck If I could just puke. The day seemed to be starting out ok - but now all of this. Was it something I ate? Did my over-priced bacon and eggs cause all of this? I wish I could spit them up all over the mosaic tile. Shoot vomit to try and balance out my equilibrium. No I don't want to kill myself and I am sure everyone thinks about it - wonders about it - toys with the sinister thought of it. Let's face it we all have the power. My problem is the aspect of want. No I don't want to kill myself. Why does everyone always want something. I have never met anyone that didn't want. Whether it be love, money, sex, Pepsi, God, or baseball cards. There is no person on this planet that is without want - don't lie to yourself.
The eggs churn in my gut and bile swells up my throat into a bitter acrid palate. I know all of this stuff already. These moments will pass. Just ride the wave. Everything will be alright in the morning. The difference between coping and plummeting into despair is thinking too much. Stop thinking, buy a pack of gum, get a magazine, hurry you need a distraction, you want a distraction. You want. You want. You want.
There must be something to fix this. I must need something. Yes that's it I need to find out what's missing. I need to find out what it is, and then get it.
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