Oneiroid

I said goodbye to my colleagues at work, with a perky attitude and a grin. As soon as I stepped off the building steps, my shoulders slumped and my eyes fell to the ground. If I could curl into a ball and just drop, I would have. I walked to the subway fully aware of the heaviness on my shoulders. I could not look up, as if some magnetic force had bound my head down. Finding my way into that busy subway, I sat down and looked to the ground. I sighed and wrapped my arms around my knapsack which was now propped up on my lap. I closed my eyes and then came the thought, "I wish I could die." This isn't a new thought to me, every now and again I gladly contemplate my wish to end my life. To rid me of all things. My brain, in an attempt to distract me provoked me to look up and ahead to see the face of a young woman who had her eyes closed and her head leaning back slightly. I mentally commented, "She's beautiful in a very worn and exhausted way." She opened her eyes and looked blankly to the side, to a point which was clearly extradimensional, it seemed; then I watched as a tear rolled down her cheeks. I was startled, "She's crying?" I thought. I immediately felt my shoulders curve further inwards and I hugged my knapsack tighter. I could feel my eyebrows furrow and the corners of my mouth tense. She allowed the teardrop to roll all the way down her cheeks and another one rolled from the other eye. She maintained her gaze to this unearthly place. I could almost smell the melancholia hovering around her, not seeking comfort or an observer; it just was. I had dichotomous thoughts, on one side I wanted to comfort her, to acknowledge her...and another thought was, let her experience her melancholia in peace. The second thought was the strongest; it was like the bouts of sadness that wash over me sometimes when I would like to simply cease to exist. Even when nothing was wrong in my life (or at least majorly), I'd want to just die. The milder forms of just feeling a heavy rock on my chest and tingly anxiety in my peripheries; those stimulate me to find something to absorb myself in; or as Baudelaire worded it "get drunk."  But for the more darker themes like this evening, I felt helpless and hopeless. I feel suspended in the hopeless and timeless state where nothing tasted like anything and nothing could bring me peace. The young woman got up and left her seat heaving on her back a congested knapsack. She turned and I did not see her again. And that was it.