The Train and I

I heard the train in the distance.
Its roar broke the silence,
and for the first time in a long while,
something pulled me out of my bubble.
I was alert. Present.
I looked around.

People moved like planets,
each spinning in their own orbit.
Detached.
Trapped in thoughts
I will never know.

Human beings are fascinating—
so different, so complex,
yet still creatures of habit.

I became a habit too:
the habit of watching
without ever stepping in.
I learned that other people’s lives
often seem more interesting than my own.

I fall in love with strangers every day—
at stations, on sidewalks, in cafés.
With their gestures,
their laughter,
their hidden storms.
I fall in love with the invisible:
with their minds,
their brilliance,
the way they face life
as if it didn’t hurt so much.

And then I envy them.
I envy their joy,
their drive to live,
their ability to pull from life
a brief moment of beauty
despite everything.

Meanwhile,
I remain trapped in a world of fantasies
where everything is watched
but nothing is truly lived.

But today…
I heard the train in the distance.
And I decided,
for the first time,
to wake up.

To wake from my quiet dreams,
step out of my mental hiding place,
and dare to live,
day by day,
like they do.
Like everyone else.
Like me—
if I let myself.