Have You Ever, You Know, Just Followed Someone?
February 18th 2008 23:36
You sit on the train, reading a book, going to work. You see a girl a few seats up, applying make-up. You watch her as she brushes the rouge on, reddening her high cheekbones, putting some colour on top of the flesh-toned foundation. She constantly scans her face with the mirror. Up, down, left, right, up-right, down-right. The mascara is next. She opens her eyes wide to put on the eye shadow, her mouth open like she is letting out a sound you think would be similar to a fog-horn.
She fixes her long hair, pulling it three times through a stretchy hair-tie. She then grabs the pony tail in 2 halves and pulls, the hair on her temples tightening, giving a little bit of pleasurable pain. She is set for the day, she knows people will look at her, and this gives her power.
She puts her red jacket back on, which restricted the fine hand movements needed for applying the magic. She puts all her make up back in a pink recyclable bag, gets up and goes to the doors as the next stop comes up.
It’s your stop too, so you get up and go to the other train door. The train stops, you get off and head for the exit of the station, never far behind the girl in make up and red jacket.
You get out of the station, and see her going in a different direction to the one you usually walk to work, but she is going in the same general direction, so you walk the same route as her.
She walks through a car park and on to the main road. You watch the red jacket dance as she walks down the street, about 20 metres away. She goes into an office building, you just catch her taking off her sunglasses and smiling at the security guard as she heads for the elevator that you can’t see. You sit on a bench next to the road and look up at the office building. You wonder what floor she is on, what she does on that floor. You wonder when she leaves tonight.
Is she going back to her parents' house? Does she still live with her parents? Or does she live with a boyfriend who picks her up in the evening? Or does she live with a couple of other flat mates who regularly hit the town, going to the same places you do, but you never seem to see her? Does she wake up on Sunday morning with hangovers that seem to be worse than they are because the bed is empty except for her? Or does she relish the fact she can stretch out while her brain recovers?
Do you come back just before 5, sit at the café just down from the building, have a coffee and pretend to read a book while you scour the street for her. Then if you do manage to see her, do you go to the station with her, without her ever knowing?
Do you stand not too far from her on the platform as you wait for the train, just letting your eyes wash over her and your brain make all these fantasies that will never come true?
Or do you balls up and talk to her, say hello, or make an excuse to say hello? Drop something or bump into her? Try to make an impression, try to make yourself memorable?
Or do you just watch and over-think? Do you go home, find escape in the internet, or through transcendental masturbation, or tv, or music, or a hobby of any kind?
Just so you don’t think of her because the only thing worse than the pain of failure is the pain of knowing the limitless possibilities that present themselves to you every single day of your life?
Nah, neither have I, weirdos.
She fixes her long hair, pulling it three times through a stretchy hair-tie. She then grabs the pony tail in 2 halves and pulls, the hair on her temples tightening, giving a little bit of pleasurable pain. She is set for the day, she knows people will look at her, and this gives her power.
It’s your stop too, so you get up and go to the other train door. The train stops, you get off and head for the exit of the station, never far behind the girl in make up and red jacket.
You get out of the station, and see her going in a different direction to the one you usually walk to work, but she is going in the same general direction, so you walk the same route as her.
She walks through a car park and on to the main road. You watch the red jacket dance as she walks down the street, about 20 metres away. She goes into an office building, you just catch her taking off her sunglasses and smiling at the security guard as she heads for the elevator that you can’t see. You sit on a bench next to the road and look up at the office building. You wonder what floor she is on, what she does on that floor. You wonder when she leaves tonight.
Do you come back just before 5, sit at the café just down from the building, have a coffee and pretend to read a book while you scour the street for her. Then if you do manage to see her, do you go to the station with her, without her ever knowing?
Do you stand not too far from her on the platform as you wait for the train, just letting your eyes wash over her and your brain make all these fantasies that will never come true?
Or do you balls up and talk to her, say hello, or make an excuse to say hello? Drop something or bump into her? Try to make an impression, try to make yourself memorable?
Or do you just watch and over-think? Do you go home, find escape in the internet, or through transcendental masturbation, or tv, or music, or a hobby of any kind?
Just so you don’t think of her because the only thing worse than the pain of failure is the pain of knowing the limitless possibilities that present themselves to you every single day of your life?
Nah, neither have I, weirdos.
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Comment by Anonymous
I'd like it if someone randomly came up to me on a train and say hello or flash me a smile...but it never happens.