I am sitting on the metro north with my legs outstretched conducting my favorite pastime. People watching. It’s peaceful. Or it would be if the asshole behind me would stop having an obnoxiously loud phone call. I can tell I’m not the only one annoyed. Across from me sits a man who I can tell is wound tight and keeps looking back at the asshole with his earbuds in. The man across from me, let’s call him Dan, has tattoos across his hands and a badge for CNN around his waist. I wonder what his position is. I wonder if I should network with him. If my “in” is commiserating on what an asshole the guy on the phone is.
I continue to raise the volume of my headphones to no relief. It’s as though the asshole is speaking into my ear rather than his phone. He interrupted my reading time and I can’t drown him out so here I am writing this. I’m on my way to grand central for a networking trip with school despite my graduating a few weeks ago.
As I sit on this train I ponder the concept of commutes. All these people have somewhere to be, some even ride this train daily. Whereas it is a novelty to me every-time this is their everyday. Assholes on the phone galore. I will admit, I am currently taking up 3 seats as one person, but there are plenty of open seats in this car. So therefore I am not an asshole. Asshole behind me is rounding the bend of a 10 minute phone call. I wonder if he can see me writing this in my notes app. If he knows how rude he is. Or maybe I’m just sensitive and I should grow up and get over it. But truly. I didn’t ask to hear about whose couch he’s crashing on. Surrounding me are many other characters, respectfully sitting around in quiet. Most of them are on their phones. I wonder what they’re doing.
My favorite part of this train is that it runs along the river and has a gorgeous view at times. But even then I just like watch the world pass by me. Those views are now narrate by the asshole behind me. His voice is grating. “Yeah dude, how was the drive?”. Asshole. To make this even better a headline from the New York Times confirming Trump’s presidency has popped up. I have such complicated feelings about this country where I live, where I was born. I exist with so much privilege. A middle class white girl in the Hudson valley. But also I fear so much about the world to come. I fear Project 2025. I fear for my right to marry. My right to choose. I’m safe in New York, but now I don’t know what my future holds. My dream was always to move throughout the country in my twenties, trying different slices of life. I wanted to go to grad school in Texas. My life has infinitely narrowed. So yes, I am safe here. But also I feel trapped. The “what ifs” of my life have gotten become finite. I can’t just pick up and leave. I can’t just believe I’ll be accepted anywhere. I can’t just live. I can’t breathe.
But I still have this train. I am on this train, going somewhere. I am blasting Breathe by Anna Nalick. Because even when it feels like I can’t, my body will jump in and make me. And that’s all I can do. Continue to breathe.