I drift in negative space, unafraid. The noise from the long-island bound train car lessens, as I gaze out the window; sun searing my retina. Blindness would surely ensue, but it matters not, as I float.
My mind wanders, flashing memories of past summers, loved ones, and friends; a moment of appreciation. The beautiful imagery whizzes by my un-flinched eye; the awe-inspiring New York suburbia. The harmonies in my ear bring me back to a time I miss, that child-like carelessness. Oh what a time with smiles aplenty, responsibilities aside; embracing life properly.
The barren fields bring a calming sensation; a peace non-existent in the clamorous city. I ride to Ronkonkoma, a place the opposite of home. I do not look forward to the weekend, sharing breath with an adulterous, verbally abusive scum my aunt accepts. I do not look forward to hypocrisy, smiles all around without a simple call for the holidays; those smiles, epitomizing falsity.
I wander, enjoying not the destination, but the beauty of the journey; as is life; negative space.