glitch.
You go about your everyday life, stuck in routine. You leave the house at the same time, take the same amount of steps each morning, do the same menial tasks in work, head home to indulge in the same evening activities. At least, that was my life. Hell, I was so set in my ways I’d even sit on the same seat on the train every day. Sometimes I would even eat the same things – breakfast, lunch and dinner – for weeks in a row.
Routine can be a safety blanket or it can be used to suffocate you. It just depends who you are. It can protect you from the real world if you don't want to face it. Or it can weigh you down, making you desperate for freedom, forcing you to throw it off so you can breathe. It just depends how you use it.
When this is disrupted it wakes you up a little. Usually for me, and awakening would be triggered by someone sitting in my usual seat on the train. Or the shop not having the lunch I ate every day.
But this time, it was the large grey shipping container that suddenly appeared on the hill one morning.
Tuesday. 7.15am.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue with slight nip to the air. It was summer, but still too early for the heat to have fully woken up yet.
I am fully on auto pilot. If I get to the lights at this time I can walk straight across the junction without pressing the button and without interrupting the flow of traffic. I like to avoid stopping a whole bunch of cars just to let one person cross. I feel like I disrupt too much. It’s like I can physically feel them staring into me as I cross the road, annoyed that I've interrupted their journey.
I know that two guys will pass me in the opposite direction on the last crossing point and I'll always have to move out their way. They walk together, but at a distance - not too close. But the junction takes you out on a corner, so I have to swerve every morning to avoid them. I don't check my phone at that point - it goes into my pocket as I approach.
And then as soon I pass them my phone is back out again and I pretend to look engrossed in something, or texting someone, as a man who slightly creeps me out always tries to talk to me. My headphones and my phone are my armour to protect me from being called out for ignoring him.
Then I arrive at the familiarity of the train station path. I go in and get my ticket, then walk along to my platform, knowing exactly where the train will stop so I can be right at the doors to beat everyone else to my seat. But today's walk to the platform is different. As I look toward the horizon, penetrating the skyline is a huge grey shipping container.
I stop. I go to take a picture with my phone but there are other passengers standing on this platform and they'll think I'm being a creep and taking photos of them. But nobody else is looking. It's… right there. It's never been there before. Has it always been there? I second guess myself. Everyone else is engrossed in phones and newspapers and I'm staring at this huge thing that's just appeared, seemingly out of the blue. I can't even tell where it is. I get on my train and immediately decide I need a window seat. I'm trying to figure out where the hell this thing is. As the train curves out the station I'm trying to look, pressing my head against the glass, trying to see it, but the windows are too low, the container too high. I must look crazy. But they're crazy for not even noticing.
It plays on my mind for the rest of the journey. Where was that? How can I find it? How did it just suddenly appear? I go to work and the thoughts dissolve away again, something filed away for another day. I go through the motions and get through the day. I head home and microwave my dinner and watch tv, but it hits 7pm and I get a migraine. I take painkillers and go to bed and I fall fast asleep, thoughts of the container spilling out my mind.
Thursday. 7.24am.
I don't think I'm the only one going crazy. Which is a relief. Which is scary.
On the train we pull into one of the stops and there are Van Gogh paintings on display. In frames, lit, like they would be if they were in an art gallery. This is a tiny train station with hardly any passengers, but not such a low number to even make it significant. It's in an awkward place between two main areas of the city – easily walkable if you tried. And yet, here is the Mona Lisa, in all it’s grandeur. It’s contained in a glass box, with a wide wooden barrier round it. Except it's not hanging in The Louvre. It's mounted on some wire fencing in a random British train station.
I want to run out of the train. I want to touch it, see it with my own eyes, figure out if it's real.
But the next train isn't for another half hour and I like getting in early to work when it's quiet. So I just sit and stare out the window, looking round to check with the other passengers to see if they see what I'm seeing. They do. People are pulling out their phones and taking pictures. I take a picture too and post it on Twitter. "Who knew our railways were getting so cultured?"
Ping! I get likes and retweets and several joke filled replies.
@xyxy So that's why the fares have been going up...
@redacted yo i need a barrier between me and other people when i'm on the train
@0101 Tbf I’ve waited for a train long enough to be displayed in a glass box
Some people think it’s photoshop.
@egg LOL obviously fake
@halo Ugh people making up shit for the retweets is the worst
@deleted like why bother wasting time on Photoshop for that
I search for the station we’re at on Twitter to see if any of the other passengers have posted pictures. Thankfully some have. I start retweeting them. I’m not going crazy. It’s not just me. All of these other images, from lots of different angles, are proof I am not losing my mind. I think.
A notification pops up.
@chloewrites Hi, I’m Chloe from The Daily Journal, could I send you a DM? Would love to chat about this
Usually I’m afraid of being bored on the train, endlessly refreshing the same social media on my phone, no updates each time but still going through the motions, hoping someone has posted someone new. That morning I don’t stop typing until I arrive at work.
Routine can be a safety blanket or it can be used to suffocate you. It just depends who you are. It can protect you from the real world if you don't want to face it. Or it can weigh you down, making you desperate for freedom, forcing you to throw it off so you can breathe. It just depends how you use it.
When this is disrupted it wakes you up a little. Usually for me, and awakening would be triggered by someone sitting in my usual seat on the train. Or the shop not having the lunch I ate every day.
But this time, it was the large grey shipping container that suddenly appeared on the hill one morning.
Tuesday. 7.15am.
It was a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue with slight nip to the air. It was summer, but still too early for the heat to have fully woken up yet.
I am fully on auto pilot. If I get to the lights at this time I can walk straight across the junction without pressing the button and without interrupting the flow of traffic. I like to avoid stopping a whole bunch of cars just to let one person cross. I feel like I disrupt too much. It’s like I can physically feel them staring into me as I cross the road, annoyed that I've interrupted their journey.
I know that two guys will pass me in the opposite direction on the last crossing point and I'll always have to move out their way. They walk together, but at a distance - not too close. But the junction takes you out on a corner, so I have to swerve every morning to avoid them. I don't check my phone at that point - it goes into my pocket as I approach.
And then as soon I pass them my phone is back out again and I pretend to look engrossed in something, or texting someone, as a man who slightly creeps me out always tries to talk to me. My headphones and my phone are my armour to protect me from being called out for ignoring him.
Then I arrive at the familiarity of the train station path. I go in and get my ticket, then walk along to my platform, knowing exactly where the train will stop so I can be right at the doors to beat everyone else to my seat. But today's walk to the platform is different. As I look toward the horizon, penetrating the skyline is a huge grey shipping container.
I stop. I go to take a picture with my phone but there are other passengers standing on this platform and they'll think I'm being a creep and taking photos of them. But nobody else is looking. It's… right there. It's never been there before. Has it always been there? I second guess myself. Everyone else is engrossed in phones and newspapers and I'm staring at this huge thing that's just appeared, seemingly out of the blue. I can't even tell where it is. I get on my train and immediately decide I need a window seat. I'm trying to figure out where the hell this thing is. As the train curves out the station I'm trying to look, pressing my head against the glass, trying to see it, but the windows are too low, the container too high. I must look crazy. But they're crazy for not even noticing.
It plays on my mind for the rest of the journey. Where was that? How can I find it? How did it just suddenly appear? I go to work and the thoughts dissolve away again, something filed away for another day. I go through the motions and get through the day. I head home and microwave my dinner and watch tv, but it hits 7pm and I get a migraine. I take painkillers and go to bed and I fall fast asleep, thoughts of the container spilling out my mind.
Thursday. 7.24am.
I don't think I'm the only one going crazy. Which is a relief. Which is scary.
On the train we pull into one of the stops and there are Van Gogh paintings on display. In frames, lit, like they would be if they were in an art gallery. This is a tiny train station with hardly any passengers, but not such a low number to even make it significant. It's in an awkward place between two main areas of the city – easily walkable if you tried. And yet, here is the Mona Lisa, in all it’s grandeur. It’s contained in a glass box, with a wide wooden barrier round it. Except it's not hanging in The Louvre. It's mounted on some wire fencing in a random British train station.
I want to run out of the train. I want to touch it, see it with my own eyes, figure out if it's real.
But the next train isn't for another half hour and I like getting in early to work when it's quiet. So I just sit and stare out the window, looking round to check with the other passengers to see if they see what I'm seeing. They do. People are pulling out their phones and taking pictures. I take a picture too and post it on Twitter. "Who knew our railways were getting so cultured?"
Ping! I get likes and retweets and several joke filled replies.
@xyxy So that's why the fares have been going up...
@redacted yo i need a barrier between me and other people when i'm on the train
@0101 Tbf I’ve waited for a train long enough to be displayed in a glass box
Some people think it’s photoshop.
@egg LOL obviously fake
@halo Ugh people making up shit for the retweets is the worst
@deleted like why bother wasting time on Photoshop for that
I search for the station we’re at on Twitter to see if any of the other passengers have posted pictures. Thankfully some have. I start retweeting them. I’m not going crazy. It’s not just me. All of these other images, from lots of different angles, are proof I am not losing my mind. I think.
A notification pops up.
@chloewrites Hi, I’m Chloe from The Daily Journal, could I send you a DM? Would love to chat about this
Usually I’m afraid of being bored on the train, endlessly refreshing the same social media on my phone, no updates each time but still going through the motions, hoping someone has posted someone new. That morning I don’t stop typing until I arrive at work.
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