In fact it went perfectly. The new Saturday commute has me connecting from the N to the R on the same platform, with only a 3-4 minute wait for the R and no stairs to climb up or down. The R was more crowded than anticipated but I got a seat. I can consider transferring at a later point, like 14th Street, for better seat availability.
No the new commute was basically perfect, but I felt numb inside, and sad, like a stranger in my own breath. The clanking and bonking noises of the train felt especially caustic and harsh. Each and every banging and rattling of the subway car felt like a hammer hitting a different part of my body. There was not even peace at the station stops, as the coming and going of other passengers, other humans with troubles of their own and places to go, their passages into and out of the car felt like I was somehow responsible for the treadmill of their lives. One life exchanged for 3 others, the same seats filled by what may as well have been illusions. Some of us have visible attitudes of optimism or focus. Others give off nothing except for what can be divined from sartorial flourishes. For others it’s makeup or jewelry that communicates their code.
I will take another pill, another portion of a pill. It will make me feel stable enough to get through this awful day.
