There was a time where I thought that every decision was supposed to be opposite of the status quo. It was around the same time I learned that phrase. I don’t really understand what it means even now. Along with my decisive decision making, knowledge seemed way clearer back then. Of course, you would be correct in assuming that life gets more complex and the details we add to it build layers upon layers that become impossible to peal. Yet, there is something that bugs me. I sometimes wish if I could summon my younger self and just consult with him over a problem, as I think that he not only has thought about it, but he would also laugh at me for forgetting.
Being in the subway is among the easiest ways of noticing how society moves. It is perfection when it comes to wallowing in a self-conscious way after an event significant for you triggers it. Having my headphones on I felt only music amplifying my scrambled emotions that were mostly saddening for some reason. I also felt the hot currents and gusts of wind produced from the trains whenever they came and went. It was a Tuesday early afternoon and the subway felt sparse. I chose the stairs to descend, because I felt like I wanted to move, but also to extend my return back home. There was the obligatory puddle of strange liquid of course. Some small pieces of trash as well. But these little things only enhanced how I was feeling. So, I do what I always did in these situations – Feel like it was for the first time, or pretend it is the last. The latter was always more intensive with the idea of an ending of some kind. For me it is the same if you become the victim or the hero in your mind. In both scenarios the world serves a purpose for comparison. Everything becomes of one identity and it is against you, something in hindsight that seems ridiculous. And even if in the moment I understand that what I am thinking is false - the failed job interview, the failed exam and the direct laughs I received from a random store clerk were all a part of some kind of conspiracy to bring my mood down and to prepare me for some kind of acceptance, a truce between me and the world.
With these thoughts I traversed the empty subway, waiting fifteen minutes for the train home. Even that was part of the conspiracy. How can a subway train be late fifteen minutes. But I was glad though, in these moments I love to wander and wait. To delay if it fits more. Then, among the yellow squared floor I gazed upon the tunnel from where I expected my train to come and saw nothing but darkness. I tried to think of something profound even if I know that this attempt too, is ridiculous. Again, nothing came of it, except the vision of how my younger self would see me from the bench behind and be disappointed of the weirdness I have become. Or, if not weirdness, the cliché that I think I am. He knows. He knew everything.
The day was planned so – Get up early with the discipline of a soldier and the motivation of a hungry animal. Shave my face and get a quick shower. Put the nice clothes on that I picked yesterday and go take a job interview. It wouldn’t take me that long and I would have time to study a bit more for the exam that I had three hours later. But even as I took those steps down the staircase and into the cloudy September sky, something was battling with my motivation. Still, you wouldn’t need motivation if discipline was there to take your feet off the ground and move you towards your objective. I saw then dark faces and downtrodden people among the grey streets and dirty crossroads. Started asking myself if I was on my way to becoming them, maybe I was already a part of the dark ambience, already serving as a side character in the backdrop of a documentary for a dystopic society. It was too late, my mind was filled with doubts. There would be no success today and it would be translated further down the line. I am simply a failure. This would get confirmed.
The job was not even that special. What gave it the attractive factor was the possibility of experience gathering with an average salary. This experience would be gathered to somewhat solidify my degree that I would be possibly getting today. Honestly, the plan was perfect if it would only work out. To be honest then, every plan would be perfect if it went as… well… planned. The entry to the office which I got interviewed in was the standard fancy and modern building that are everywhere now. Glass everywhere, people stopping you and asking you where you are going. All kinds of steps limiting you to do a simple task almost as if to make you look that there is no fraud going on – “The cleaners are cleaning and we pay them, now look at your reflection and contemplate the position you are in and admire the spotless place and hate yourself for being a stain in this perfection. “My younger self knew this already. I remember thinking that it would be this way and so it turned out to be. A memory arose when I was in the lobby waiting for the interviewer who was late and gave my information to the reception two times. As all of our childhood moments at the time of their inception, there is nothing significant about them. These details that we gather as we get old make the moment more romantic. In one way or another, whether it is by gathering more knowledge to fill in the gaps, or by outright fabricating, these moments are now thought of by ourselves as building blocks for our character.
In a sunny day that would become a starless night I played football with my friends. The horizon upon this small town stood above us and taunted with its endlessness, but we countered with infinite energy and never-ending activities. It was might encountering fearlessness and it was beautiful. The latter, like I said, was understood later. Standing now and watching the patch of grass outside the building made me wish to stand on it and kick around. Its perfect volume and color allured me, but not to destroy it, just to use it. When we kicked the ball, stalks of grass would fly up in the air, indicating a solid powerful kick that we would cheer if it belonged to our teammate or respect if it was from the opponent. The bending of the knees, the concentrated face, the dirty shoes in display and the cheap ball made the light between the sprung grass shine brighter. Our eyes took photos that were archived immediately. But this is not what I remember most. Something infected my consciousness at some point in time, making me forget even the starting point of this thinking. Sure, my mind still took pictures, but it also took notes which stood as reminders. Mainly - that time was ticking and that this would be over. Is it true what they say then ? That another life begins when you realize you have only one. Then this possibility could explain how I forgot everything before, as it was insignificant. That wouldn’t explain the difference between me and him though. And the details that add layers don’t help much either. They can even confuse.
Sometimes a bunch of other kids from a different street would come under the guise of an opposing team. In these instances I think hides the answer of what the difference is between the ages. With no worries and little communication a big number of kids just gathered and competed. I cant help but compare with today when it is a bother just to organize a simple gathering for a coffee or dinner or whatever. I remembered in the lobby a similar situation. Similar by feelings, not by status, of course. These matches when other kids came from a different neighborhood actually excited not only us , but even our parents and the adults living close to the field we called a stadium. The field and the blocks were divided by two rows of illegal garages that created corridors of unhygienic tight spaces that we squeezed through in order to get on the field. Sure, there was an actual path to the stadium, but the feeling of going through these corridors with a team gave me something that I lack now standing here at the start of the day – motivation. Similarly, we got hyped up when the other team spilled out from a single line to a fleshed out formation. And just as I was about to play as a defense for my team that Ireally cared about, an older kid came and told me to beat it out of the team, because they would put someone else in my position. In these matches we pretended to care about the actual rules of the game, so I complied. They started playing and something in me switched. I was no longer part of the team, but just a spectator, one of the adults that stood on the balcony watching us. Only difference is that I wasn’t happy or glad watching them. I felt hurt, I felt like I feel now. Well, not really like I felt now, but those feelings stood as a predecessor to the void I would feel later in the day when I return not to my team, but directly home. Giving my little analysis with the details I have now, it was not about the silly act of how I was not wanted to play in a game, I have seen and experienced much worse, but It was about these feelings that I took as normal and in some sense they were, but the way I hid them made it worse. Made me lonely. They gave me consequences that I still experience today.
At this point my name was called and I headed into the office. I wish I could share you something interesting about how I stood up for myself and tried to get hired through my bustling sense of self. I came in, we talked about myself and the firm for a while, then they told me how my position was filled but can offer me a lesser one. Needless to say, it wasn’t worth it. I told them I would think about it and call them, then left through the shiny interior imposing itself unto me even more then before, looking impossible to breach. At this point I had more time than before to study, but as you can imagine I didn’t wish to appear to my exam, nevertheless study for it. “It is what it is. “ – I said to myself and understood that three to four hours weren’t really going to change the outcome. Again, I wish I could share that I miraculously gathered courage and knowledge to pass my exam. For the record, I really think I had it, I studied a lot. Maybe my younger self wouldn’t kid himself with such allures and illusions. Maybe this is the difference.
I had a lot of time to spare and the distance wasn’t much. I put on my headphones and decided not to use public transport, this way I could assure myself that I had time to think and reminisce. I felt the urge coming up and had to indulge myself, because it helped me suppress what I feel now at the station. Yes, I am reminiscing and at the same time I feel bad now, but when I am walking, each footstep shakes a memory which I can delve into. Here is when I sin cardinally against my younger self, I know for sure. I am analyzing something which has already been analyzed, instead of just enjoying the present.
I walked and felt better. But I couldn’t shake the need to poke and compare. This memory is from a time I let go. That’s the best description I had. It was in middle school, a time of leisurely activities that I unfortunately filled with too much escapism. Can you remember when you were young how the volume and area of something small felt like a whole universe? The many faces you couldn’t remember. Your group of friends and the enemies that always seemed to know and hide something from you. Each floor of the school, for example, had the same ugly green paint and some weird pipes badly hidden by the workers of the past, yet somehow the atmosphere was different. Different teachers and different kids represented their part of this universe and none questioned it. It just was.
I was bullied, but not from any kids from my class, because I was a big kid. The culprits were the older ones who bullied everyone anyways. That day I was excused to go to the bathroom and cheeky me decided that I needed to go pee in the teacher’s bathroom. My god, it was the stench of the forbidden fruit. Such nice doors, a sink that actually works and a soap dispenser which didn’t have spit in it. This fruit smelled like bleach and I wanted in. On the way however, it was universal knowledge that you had to pass through the communal sinks. Now, this is where I have to explain something to myself. Why were there communal sinks ? Half of them didn’t work and the other half didn’t work as well, but at least they sprayed water. It had a disgusting pool of some solution that I don’t know if it was even drained. And as useless as it seemed, this part of the universe also made sense. Yes, I remember now. It was full of cigarette buts. This made it possible for someone to smoke in there and put the cigarette out fast, dropping it in the water. And the abundance of the cigarette buts made it ambiguous to whom actually smokes there. We would notice teachers sometimes, so you could easily be confused for the conclusion who does it more. Well not really. I now realize that the difference was simple. Teachers pretended to be decent and opened the windows, the kids didn’t. And on these communal sink I now find myself, but the objective, like a true forbidden fruit, would be made inaccessible. As I turned the corner from the stairs towards the direction of the bathroom, I would stare into the beast’s eyes – an eight-grader. Two of them to be precise. They instinctively put out their cigarettes and got mad about it when they realized I wasn’t a teacher.
“ Get over here buddy. “ – one would aggressively yell.
“ Shouldn’t you be in class, retard. “ – the other would add. I wouldn’t say anything and would immediately get the reflex to start crying. This would sometimes work, but this time they were mad and slapped me around. Returning to class was humiliating and the teacher scolded me in front of everyone for slacking off. After the class I would be told I was ugly by the girls for crying. Needless to say, I was devastated. As the cherry on top, when I got home I felt so alone. I was physically alone too. This is my earliest example of when I started separating me from the world, as when I opened the front door, a sudden gust of wind closed the door hard. The vibrations broke a window, like it broke a thread holding me together. Looking at the pieces of glass I started crying. I don’t remember a moment where I cried so continuously . Not even when death was involved.
“It is a beautiful building our faculty.” – I thought to myself going in and coming out. The exam was a disaster. At this point everything else that can and will happen to me in this day could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. So now I find myself again with the same need of retrospection. The need to think of my younger self as a person with which I can communicate with is stronger. I wish he stood next to me on the train that took me now home. Instead, I caught a glimpse of him. The window opposing me showed a boy of smaller size. His nose needed rhinoplasty, his limbs lengthy compared to his body and a pair of headphones were on his ears. In an instant I recognized that these were my first headphones, the nose was my crooked nose. We made eye contact and he smiled. I knew it! He was laughing at me. I felt furious and put my headphones down with the intent of making him disappear. Averting my eyes I noticed that my station was here and hurried to get off, before the doors closed. Not before noticing him last time, pointing towards his ears. Didn’t think much of it.
I was so tired and disappointed, the faces and background from the beginning of the day didn’t look like anything now. I just wanted home. I felt like that kid on the playground, like that kid standing above the broken glass. I wanted to hide.
Key was in and I turned it. Inside I felt a presence. Looking around there was nothing but a ball of confused emotions engulfing me. In the middle of preparing a meal I put the knife down and went to sit on my bed to wait for the water to boil. Past moments flew by me and threads began to unwind. On my balcony were a hundred birds that I tried to shoo, but it didn’t work. On the floor was a creature I couldn’t perceive. A child whispered to me an idea – I picked the creature up and put it down on the balcony. The thing started speaking what seemed like poetry and the birds flew away. At this point the threads were all unwoven and the beeper went off. Apparently the act of sitting turned into an act of sleeping. I removed the water safely but didn’t use it. Instead, I learned that my younger self knew something different than me. This time I was sure, because he told me. All those layers and all those details destroyed. He whispered to me – “ Put on your headphones and cry. “ - And so I did.
