Liner Notes

Number Two — “Trying Not To Believe In The Lie”

So I’m late again. Flying through the house I grabbed a tshirt and struggled on a pair of jeans, hurrying through the little routine tasks required to get me out of the house. I ran half the distance to the train station, trying not to trip over myself and muttering to myself whenever I do.

It never used to be like this: I used to be calm and collected, at least more so compared to now. Somehow along the years, something must have unraveled, leaving pieces of me everywhere. I really need to gather all my shit and start again.

It’s cooler in the trains; I hadn’t realised I was perspiring on my way to the station. I settled into a seat and began to catch my breath and put on my do-not-disturb face. Everyone’s got one on in the train — the self-absorbed, slightly annoyed but otherwise completely blank face. I’m on my way to meet some friends for dinner. Usual place, nothing special. An old café that’s been there since forever. It’s just somewhere to be. The scenery outside begin to fly past, all the familiar buildings merge together in a blur; I’ve been taking this train almost daily for as long as I can remember.

It’s different today though. The buildings are still the same, as is the dark tunnel that the train has just entered. A feeling, indistinguishable between anticipation and dread begins to travel from my throat and settle at that pit of of my stomach. Something’s gonna happen. I know it.