Clack clack clackety clack click click click clack
That is the sound of my workday routine
And also the soundtrack to my daydreams
It’s like the question about a tree in the forest.
I was haunting my life, not really living in it. I was going through the motions and I was sure if I stopped, no one would notice. It’s a strange thing lurking your own life. One would think that my routines would have some people recognizing and expecting me, and maybe it was like that in the beginning, but after a while, I faded into the background. My face looked like any other and melted into indistinguishable features, lifeless eyes staring from the pages of magazines, ads on trains, or posters at the station. I could be anyone, no one.
A cup of coffee and a newspaper at the corner before the subway; sometimes I didn’t even read the paper, but I bought it every day. It was comforting. Missing that stop would have me off-kilter for the duration.
Staring at the reflections in the windows as I passed by before going below was a habit. I never looked at myself anymore, though. I hated that I was frumpy and unfashionable, but not enough to do anything about it. I didn’t think anyone saw me anyway. I mostly took notice of the people surrounding me. I was uninterested in the details. I just saw the crowd moving like a flock of birds, a school of fish, or a herd of sheep; all changing direction at the same time and all heading toward the same unspoken destination, guided by some force of nature. I was always tempted to change directions or turn around in the middle, thinking it would result in utter chaos. Maybe I was just tempted to see if anyone noticed me at all.
On the train, I alternated between focusing on the passing lights and walls of the tunnel, and my disappearing and reappearing reflection in the glass as we sped along the track. The blinking lights caused a strobe effect that sometimes made me nauseous. My face blurred in with the walls, the glass, and everyone else.
I had a theory that if I went unnoticed long enough, I would cease to exist. It’s like the question about a tree in the forest.
We entered the station, so I moved with the current onto the platform and turned back toward the train. There was a commotion, and I was curious. I haven’t spoken to anyone in so long, I wasn’t sure I still knew how.
“What’s the fuss?” I croaked from a dry mouth.
No one heard my question, so I made my way closer to the edge of the platform and looked where the gawkers were pointing.
I peered down at myself lifeless on the track. It’s a strange thing lurking your own life. I guess I disappeared a long time ago, I just never noticed until now.
Daily routine is
Quicksand to the creative
Soul of an artist
– My first attempt at a Senryu. Photo from Instructables.com.