On the Edge

I like to stand right on the edge of the subway platform. I stand right atop the yellow tactile paving they install at the edge of the platform for blind people. I stand there, facing outward toward the trains, staring into the abyss. It’s my morning ritual now. And evening. And whenever I take the train.

Most people stand around the subway platform staring at their phones, refreshing whatever app is currently feeding them that little red dot. The dopamine drip keeps them coming back again and again. I, on the other hand, prefer to just sit with the boredom. Sometimes I’ll read a book. I’m allergic to the idea of reaching for my phone. I just don’t want to be that: a subject (or victim) of the attention economy.

Most people stand far away from the edge. I think most people have a fear of being pushed in front of the train, because that has happened on a few occasions and when it does, it makes the rounds on the news feeds. The subway remains insanely safe, statistically speaking. And yet people have no issue doing things that are statistically far more dangerous—speeding in a car, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes—while fearing the most unlikely of things: falling in front of a subway car, random acts of violence, terrorist attacks. It reminds me of Halloween as a kid and the stories of people putting needles and razor blades into the candy they gave out: mostly an urban myth. Irrational fear keeps everyone afraid to live their best lives. At least I think it does.

I like to fantasize about being pushed in front of the train. I don’t have the courage to do it myself, but I like the idea of someone pushing me right before it passes, too late for anyone to stop it or do anything about it. It would all be over in a moment. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more anxiety. No more worrying about this and that.

I try to distract myself from the daily drudgery with activities, hobbies, interests, yadda yadda. That stuff helps, but it doesn’t fill the void left by a complete lack of any real human connection in my life.

I think the only thing that really stops me these days is my dogs. When I think about their happy little faces, their cuddles, their smiles when I come home. They are as perfect as anything can be. That keeps me going. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

For now at least.