Ramblings of a night owl

 

I live in Cheltenham and I have at least a painful 4 hours ride (to college and back) every day. Although I enjoy the view of lush green suburbs and striking street art covered walls through the journey, I’m growing numb to it. I mean, when you commute for a good 6 months like this, you are bound to get tired of it eventually.

 

 

So I began paying attention to the passengers in the train. Okay, quick question. Am I the only one who doesn’t like making eye contacts with people? I walk, sit and stand looking down or scroll through my phone. Perhaps it’s a blaring sign of being an introvert but if I ever accidentally lock eyes with someone, my heart races (the kind of feeling when you’re about to fall from stairs) and end up feeling extremely uncomfortable. I could definitely do with less anxiety in life if I had Harry’s invisibility cloak, you know?

But for the most part, the passengers are engrossed in conversations, face deep on their phones, or nose buried in their books. Hardly comes off as a surprise these days actually. That doesn’t mean I want strangers to talk to strike conversations with me. Because although I’m in my mid-twenties I believe that I attract danger like a magnet and who knows I might be talking to a potential psychopath and the next thing you know I might end up dead in some “dark alley”. Heeeey, it’s not my fault I’m wired to think that way because I’m sure half of us at least joke about this among our friends. And honestly, when you’re a woman you think of all possibilities that could potentially get you into danger and imagine how you can escape from it. The imaginative martial arts skill or high-pitched screaming may not come in handy in real life though. Lets say, I’ve been in a similar situation – I froze and my body refused to move. The practical side of my brain, stored with immense possibilities of “What to do when you’re in danger” such as contacting my emergency numbers, screaming for help, materializing cool martial arts moves all dissolved from my brain and failed to manifest into any sort of action. But I ran for my life.

I don’t run. I hate running. But when the situation called for it, I surprised myself. The fighter in me took a back seat and I fled the scene faster than I could’ve ever imagined. Because I’ve never thought about running in situations like these. I used to conjure up situation where I fought back; but the reality hit differently.

After that horrifying experience, I retracted to a life within the four walls of my room. A way of life that women are still fighting to break free from. And then there’s me.This habit turned out to be a blessing for my parents because I didn’t go out unless it was necessary. It’s not as sad as it sounds…..pffft. I’ve definitely overcome my fears but I guess during the healing process, I got too comfortable within my solitary confinement.

Well, that escalated quickly. My initial plan was to whine about strenuous commuting but uh… I may have gotten a little too carried away with this midnight rambling about my sorry life.

It’s 11 p.m. and I’m trying to hold back from complaining about how day light savings have left me with one less hour to sleep. Isn’t that how it works? I still can’t get my head around the scientific explanation of this phenomenon so I’m expertly measuring time according to my sleep patterns.

Until next time then. Stay safe!