But my quirky subway habits aren't really the point here.
The point is, that I still can't see the train and not think of you. You'd think that after you ripped my heart out, not once, but three times, I'd have mustered up the courage to not care anymore.
No such luck. If ever I am in the Queensboro Plaza station when a 7 train rolls into the station (only the local, the green circle that I could always see from around the bend) my heart rate still accelerates.
Which is pretty fucking stupid, let's be honest. I'm not getting on it, and even if I did, you're not home.
And yet, I still want to. I want to take the train to Bliss Street, (I'm so not even joking, my life is THAT ironic) and walk down the stairs, two blocks down, and two blocks over, knowing that by the time I've hit the last corner before your building, I'll probably already be able to pick out the scent that I associate with you.
I'm not sure what it is, actually. But your whole building smells like it. When I open the door to your lobby, it's a kind of comforting, familiar thing and it follows me as I get into the elevator. It's on you when I collapse into your arms when you open the door, and it's on my clothes for a couple of days until I wash them. It smells warm and clean, and just the tiniest bit spicy.
Clearly, it's all some sort of psychological mind fuck, because I couldn't possibly pick up on that from half a block away, but I do.
I've also been known to full on stop in my tracks if someone passes me on the street carrying a similar aroma. I've literally jerked my head 180 degrees expecting to see you.
And all of this, all this bullshit I'm rambling about, sparked by seeing your stupid train pass mine in the station. I haven't seen you since June, and there have been two other men who have happily taken your place in breaking my heart, so I'm not really sure why I still care. I'm not sure why I'm hoping that, come January, I'll find myself on a 7 train again.
Because I never wanted to be this person. I never wanted to be that girl that can't let you go.
~Jessica
I know EXACTLY what you mean. I still smell the ex all the time--and Penn Station has never been the same since. Nice post. PS.. you should think of me if you're at QBP cause I pass by there twice a day at least :)
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean, Jessica. Completely. Smell is a powerful thing, too. A scent that reminds me of someone has often stopped in my tracks. I can't tell you how many times I stare at a passing car, or even a stranger who looks similar.
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing this.
Oh Jessica...when are we going to meet again?
ReplyDelete