Commuting thoughts

It takes me an hour to get to work. An hour to get back. Two hours a day, 60 hours a month, 720 hours a year. Each journey consists of two train rides and a short walk.

I stood in the crowded train clutching my book, reading through the fog that envelops my brain every morning. The commuter seated before me snoozed as music leaked from his earphones. I could almost make out the words. The one to his left played a game filled with candies of different shape and colors on her phone. The one to his right slept with her head lolling around, her sleeping hands guarding a Michael Kors purse half-heartedly. When I got a seat 4 stations before mine, I closed my eyes and quickly fell into a snooze too.

Commuters are a tired bunch.

'Outram Park Station,' the speakers declared. I stood up reluctantly and pushed myself to walk. Up the stairs, to my left, go straight, to my right, go straight, up another stairs... I listened to the clip-clopping of shoes of different type and material, an ensemble of monotony broken up by occasional chatters. I struggled to keep going while I people watched.

Every time I observed commuters' expressions, which ranged from bored to miserable, I wonder if they are happy with their lives.

I hope they are, because I absolutely hate work commitments. I enjoy my work, but I hate having to abide to the 9 to 5 (or in my case, 8.30 to 6) rule. I think it is a violation of my freedom to use my own time. Then again, I can't say anything. I sold my time for a salary at the end of each month.

To criticise commuters' lack of courage to really live would be hypocritical. I am one of them after all. Like them, I've been conditioned to fear the unknown; to be afraid to fail; to prefer stability; to hold on to money rather than dreams, because dreams do not always feed you.

I guess that is why I ended up with depression. I am an idealist by nature, but I've been brought up to be practical. This resulted in a constant struggle between idealism and practicality - my heart screams for idealism, my head reasons for practicality.

The struggle is ending soon though, because I am close to making a decision. All I need now, is courage to make the leap.

Or maybe a push.