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All I ever wished for was for somebody to care. What has the world come to these days? We are so wrapped up in ourselves that we donít even try to comprehend or sympathize with anyone else. I hate so many things about life today. I wish I could love as much as I hate, but there seems to be little to love these days. Perhaps I am losing it. I hate standing in line. I hate hearing the busy signal. Beep beep beep; obviously you are talking to somebody more important than me. I hate talking to people who put me down. I hate it when people donít pay enough attention to what I have to say. I hate people who hate. I hate myself.

It will all be over soon. This C-4 strapped upon my chest will be my salvation. I am in a subway, the E train moving from Manhattan to Queens. The sound of the metallic wheels moving against the tracks somehow brings me peace. I am ready to accept my fate. Or to give up, depending on how you choose look at it. I will go out with a big bang. I will be famous. Will I be called a mad man, or a terrorist? Will I be considered evil? Well I donít care what they say. I am a victim. I am a victim of life, of society, and of you. If only you acknowledged me once in awhile. If only you smiled when you walked pass me. If only you gave advice when I was growing up. If only you thought about me when you were away. If only you loved me back. If only you could wait a little bit longer before finding someone else to make love to. Then perhaps I would be ok.

There is a child sitting beside me. He is holding his motherís hand, and playing with a plastic truck. I think he is about seven. It is a good age to be. He is lucky to be sitting next to me. He will never know the sorrow of his parents splitting up because his daddy was cheating on his mommy. He will never see his daddy drunk. He will never grow up to become heartless and ignorant. He will never lose his innocence, beat his wife, smoke crack, and steal. He will die tonight pure and perfect, just the way God created him. A couple sits across from me, kissing each other tenderly. They look happy together. They are lucky too, for they will die in each otherís arms. They wonít have to go through the break ups, the jealously, the heartbreak. A businessman, a shrewd devil, sits a couple of seats away from me reading the New York Times. What an expensive suit he wears, I sit thinking to myself. Some little country in South East Asia will be happy that I got rid of someone like him. At least they should be. If more people were suicidal and psychotic like me, then perhaps those little brown and yellow children in sweatshops would have less work to do. Perhaps they would get some time to play outside with their friends. All I see now are faceless facades of people. Wearing Armani, Gap, Banana Republic, they live their lives without compassion. Therefore, they donít deserve any.

The train continues to move on while the lights inside flicker. It reminds me of a soul. Flickering to show that it is dieing, using up its last energy. I am this light. Should I do it now? Do you want me to? My finger is aching to push that trigger. I am at peace and ready. Are you?




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The following comments are for "The E Train"
by pengster13





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