On my right, I saw the night, and on my left, the end of twilight, separating me from the train car.
The train was filled with people on their way back home, and as it continued rocking me about, I went ahead and shone the lamp that was my thoughts beyond the dusk.
What was it that people saw when they peered into the past?
A once-happy world? The version of themselves that used to be pure and innocent? Wounds that they wished they could forget?
Those were all things that I, too, could see.
Yet, my past was bound by thorns. Trying to reach for it always resulted in my still-immature self getting stung by them.