I forgotten

The thought of you on another train on Christmas Day in 2018. A solitary resident of the Quiet Car. But it was never your intent to be so quiet. It was never your intent to be alone. Never your intent to fear connecting while at the same time yearning for it. What happened? How did you become the way you are? How did you reach this place? What trickery of the universe brought you here?

You’re not sure why you are going to New York. To reawaken something dormant perhaps. To shake up your infrastructure. Possibly. For someone apprehensive to leave the cocoon, it’s strange that this is where you are going. Or maybe New York is the perfect place. So many others living in so many other cocoons

You carry this hopelessness on your back. A weight you are trying to shed and you’re not quite sure how you will shed it. It needs shedding, doesn’t it? Hopelessness. If you were not alone you might feel differently. Or you would have other things to think about. Anything would be welcome. when was the last time that happened? Probably a month ago. In Chicago. When was the last time you actually laughed? It must have been in Chicago, too.

You worry way too much. Oh how you worry! Especially about being forgotten. Everybody you know is preoccupied with something or other. How much do they think about your existence? There may be 1 or 2. You may be thought of nostalgically. Reminding people of a time and a place that reminded them of you or that you reminded them about. But that time and that place are not you. That’s the big fear. That you will be completely forgotten until it’s too late.

Gosh you wish you could think about something else. You wish someone would write something else about you. But that will probably require a little research. Because you’re difficult to track down. Predictable but unfindable.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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