Nameless metro faces

Nameless faces, staid, commonplace, equally forced grimaces, an emotionless pseudo-coldness, and those deliberate, artificial, concealed movements, seemingly invisible, yet somehow. The subway continues its clumsy, unoiled tracks. I can't see, but I can feel it lurching uncoordinatedly along the darkened tunnel. The political scoundrels, as usual, haven't allocated any money, and I'm thrown left and right, in a momentary freeze. A slight shudder, a temporary pause, a snarl of spun-up iron wheels, only to start again without a thought, steadily gaining speed, then inevitably slowing down again. The intensified clatter fades silently. The wheels clinging to the rail squeal, grinding into the gradually heating metal, the tense axles grind, the speed increases. Then, braking sharply, it stops, then starts again. It revs up, then slows down. Constantly.

I'm pissed off at their arrhythmia, my heart is racing.

Something was always amiss in my heart. Was it nerves or the constant suppression of emotions? I was restless, and my frequent nervousness affected me adversely. I often ended up in a hospital bed, forced to smell the penetrating stench of fever-ridden, ailing old bodies. Then I emerged healthier internally, greedily inhaling fresh air, feeling the pulsing life, yet with a heightened mental illness, habitually trembling from a long stay in a hated place that brought nothing to my life except new experiences, unwelcome to everyone, like injections, blood draws, and drug infusions. Beguiled by medication, riddled with needles, I wrenched myself free from the agonizing hospital, as usual, and with pain worse than before my enforced leave, bowing my head as if decapitated, pale, permeated by the ethereal stench of sterilized hospital clothes, I reluctantly wandered back to this place that used to call itself home. I inscribed myself anew into the grim image of a reality distorted by pain. Another cripple requiring rehabilitation, another maladjusted for whom taxes must be paid. Oh, you sons of bitches! I distanced myself from the world, became a frigid pedestal, reluctantly carved into the cityscape. I just stood there, saying nothing, walking, eating, shitting, and sleeping like a human being. I merged with this mass of gloomy, ignorant people, completely invisible, unthreatened. The rotten house, reeking of mustiness and the choking scent of vodka and nicotine smoke, greeted me as usual, with an empty refrigerator and the lights just as casually turned off. I couldn't find the lock with my keys, in the hallway, which had scuffed walls and yellowed ceilings, and dancing shadows drifted madly along the darkened corridors. I thought for a moment that all those years had been as monotonous and empty as a carelessly moving subway. Although filled with intense rushing and experiences, just as the subway is filled with people with their entire bouquet of experiences, it was truly bland and shallow. A gloomy vegetative state, episodic highs, and equally fleeting lows. Euphoria mixed with indifference. I sink dispassionately into my memories, but despite my feelings, I gaze sentimentally into the near future, wanting, demanding, or rather, almost needing, to look forward to those intoxicating moments I know will soon arrive. They'll descend on me like tax debts when I start earning money; they'll come like bailiffs when I don't pay; they'll arrive like friends longing for a broken connection who couldn't bear the separation; unexpectedly, perhaps reluctantly, but I'll find them like a letter from a hesitant admirer I haven't seen before, who, after all these years, will want to confess her secret love to me, regardless of my desires, longings, or even my appearance. Suddenly, I feel a warm, wet tear gently rolling down my cheek, which is curled up by the periodic flush. It pierced my eye, clumping my eyelashes together, connecting my festering eyelids.I tried to force it back, concentrating, trying to nip it in the bud, but it was too late. Tears, soaked in pain mixed with bitterness, fell onto the elastic surface of the subway floor, trampled by dirty shoes. They scattered, sliding along the ground in unison with the movement of the speeding, rocking train. I glanced at the man sitting opposite. The impassive expression on his face astonished me. He was slightly surprised, but despite that, he glanced at me quietly. He was probably trying to fathom the causes of my state in his mind. To find the reason, to figure out what could have been so terrible that a boy as young as me was crying in the subway like a small child abandoned by his mother. Did he not notice that he was in a public place, that everyone was watching, and he was crying like a woman? No one reacted, no one offered a tissue. The travelers' dry faces were frozen as if in granite. This incredibly attractive woman, tenderly embracing this handsome brunette, glanced at me for a moment, then, unwaveringly, plunged into a passionate, unrestrained kiss. The stocky gentleman on the left nudged me with his foot and whispered quietly in my ear, "Come on, sir, this isn't appropriate."

I pondered for a moment what answer I could give him, decided it didn't matter, really, because I couldn't stop the tears flowing so eagerly, and I wasn't going to explain anything either. A woman in an elaborate coat, sitting to my right, nudged me slightly with her elbow, unintentionally; she didn't know what was going on—blind. She didn't notice anything, not even for a moment. Beside me stood a young man in leather, with a shaved head, and two Dobermans held tightly in his hands. He looked at me with pity, as if to say, "Sober up, man, and don't cry like a weakling. I can't help you; at most, I can set my dogs on you." Before I had even managed to calm down, or even look back, half the platform was already staring at me, as if waiting for the climax of my semi-dramatic ordeal. They pierced me through and through, drilling into my soul, and leave me in peace for the rest of my life, you idiots! I muttered under my breath. I covered my tearful eyes with my hat and hurried out at the next station. She was waiting on the platform, smiling slowly, and turning her outstretched hands toward me, waiting for a friendly hug. I quickly approached, and she ran up to me. She looked into my eyes and hugged me tightly. She gently stroked the skin on my face, pressed my head to her chest, and cursed silently. She tenderly took my hand, squeezed my fingers, and folded her arms around her shoulders. She was crying. I grabbed a lock of her auburn hair and nervously kneaded it between my fingers.

You remembered that stagnation again, those miserable moments when they beat, starved you, kicked your back with heavy police boots, how they stubbed out cigarettes on your neck, how you writhed in pain for weeks. Once again, laughing mockingly, they insulted you, defiled you, stripped you of the last vestiges of dignity from your frail shoulders. They doused you with icy water and exposed you to the biting rain on a frosty winter night. How they ripped off your clothes and laughed uproariously as your body burned and cracked with thermal shock, while they spat in your face, weeping, and hit you with a rubber baton across your scarred back? They choked you, melted you, and when you no longer had the strength to stand, they began their game once again. Your own brothers from a dysfunctional home, of which you were only a stepchild. When they drove you like a dog with thin twigs, basking in euphoria? Did you remember the unfortunate times when they caused you pain, despised you, robbed you of your virtue, principles, and dignity, basking in your helplessness. Forget, my love, I am with you. With me, you will forget the meaning of pain. You will know the taste of pleasure, you will understand the meaning of a filling meal, and you will understand the meaning of carefree fun. No one will abandon you again, no one will dishonor you, and I will only use your nickname. Kiss me sweetly, and return the love to her who loves you.

I spoke these words, looking at her and feeling deep within me the hope that the world I had known until then would finally fall silent, fade, and ignite with a splendor unknown to me until then.

I knew that, even though she knew everything, she would never speak, would never probe, interrogate, question, or listen. Usually, she remained silent, then lowered her eyes to the center, and nodded her head in understanding. As we stood there in the warm rain, feeling two sweet breaths on our faces, as we listened to the loud beating of our hearts, we knew that nothing mattered, and tomorrow didn't exist, because when you wake up, it's always today. Yesterday is only a note of bitterness, amidst the endless accompaniment of life's joys.

I didn't say a word either, and the silence echoed, amidst all those grotesquely wandering here and there, sluggish masses of people, echoing, the only sound I wanted to hear, alive, because I wouldn't want to hear the screams even in death.