my memory :)

Sometimes when I’m frustrated, I run down to the river. It’s about a mile away from my house. I already feel relief and refreshed from stepping out of my house. I turn up my music loud to blast away my thoughts and drown out my breathing and the aggressive pounding of my footsteps on the road. As I pass the abandoned varieties of trash thrown on the side of the road, I grow curious. Each little piece of trash has a journey that resulted in their fate of being symbols of the lack of conscience of some drivers. It kind of carries a similarity to life. That each of us has an origin, we live our life, our own journey. And at the end of this journey, perhaps what we have achieved will serve as a symbol, representing ourselves. After a while, I finally reach the train tracks. I now cross without hesitation, feeling a small rush regardless of the metal bars that lower well before the train passes.
A few more strides and I’m at the bank of the Hudson, next to the marina. I hesitate, staring out into the river, watching the current. I sit on a rock and extend my legs, relaxing my calves. It’s still chilly out. The coldness of the rock provides an absence of comfort and sends goose bumps along my bare legs.
There is something strange about the river. The way it makes me feel. The way the breeze attempts to push my frustrations away. The way its attempts are almost successful. True solitude envelopes me in a silence. My thoughts, my regrets, my concerns. I feel like I’m surrounded inevitably. I feel the breeze again on the back of my neck. I take a deep breath inhaling the fresh air, savoring my peacefulness, letting freedom become a state of mind. I close my eyes. I paint a picture.
Colors. They are how I feel. Vivid. Intense. Red. A monochromatic dream. Every shade of Red that has ever existed rushes through my head like an unstoppable current. Pink to dark pink to Red and everything in between. It makes me feel like Red feels. Heated and unpredictable like all worries have been burned in a pure scarlet flame. I open my eyes. Red is transparent now, the vivid state it once existed in fades to blue. The river. I leave the marina and start towards the tracks.
Just as I reach the tracks, the metal bars lower and I hear the train in the distance. That means it’s 3:45. The train rushes past, creating noise that shatters my envelope of silence. I feel cemented to the ground, and I can’t take my focus off the train. Its windows pass rapidly, one after another. I can see the mysterious silhouettes of passengers. I wonder if they can see me. I wonder if they care.