The trainaccident.

Like usual after work, I take the train home. Yesterday I was happy to be off a bit earlier since I didn’t feel so great, and I took the train home. Yet this trainride, which usually takes 20 minutes, took 2,5 hours almost.

I was in a train that hit a person. The person did not survive. I don’t know if it was suicide or an accident, but I know the railwaycrossing is a ‘closed’ one; with those bars. And they were down.

Suddenly the train started to brake – but against these things I guess you can’t stop in time. There was a hit, and a lot of other sounds. It was obvious we hit something; and
I saw things flying from under the train. Things like a black small wheel, a brown big thing which looked like some kind of pillow, lots of stones (from the railwaytrack), other iron bars and some more little parts (which were maybe parts of a human body- I’m not sure it went all so fast).

The train stopped. Moments of silence. The traindriver giving the message, with a trembled voice: we just hit a person. We’re going to see if we can give first aid.

But first aid with a hit like that, I guess the chance of survival isn’t much. All I could think of is that whoever was under the train, had no chance of survival. And that I later learned, was the truth.

After standing on the railway in the middle of nowhere for a long time, with a lot of firemen, police and other people who ‘clean it up’, we were escorted out of the train to a bus that came to pick us up. We had to walk along the track into the direction of the actual hit. I didn’t want to look- I didn’t want to see anything more than I already saw. I guess I was afraid to see things, I mean, it was still a real person, and his or her life just ended in one or two seconds, and I was a witness of that. I heard, I felt, and I know. That’s such a strange thing to know. Boom, a life away in a flash. Just gone, poof, just like that.

I feel sorry. Sorry for that person. Sorry for the relatives, friends, beloved ones. Sorry for the traindriver, who saw way more then I did. Sorry for the people who saw it.

It’s maybe cruel to say, but I did wonder before how it’s like when things like this happen. I never really wanted to found out, these are not the things you would like to witness.But now I know anyway. The way it goes, the sounds, the feelings. The sensations. I had cold chills on my back while walking to the bus.

I stayed home from work today, I called in sick. I just said I couldn’t work, that I was sick.

It’s true that I was sick yesterday evening and during the night, now I’m not really sick sick and I slept, the whole thing didn’t keep me from sleeping. I don’t seem to feel particularly bad or something. But I was just not capable of going to work this morning.

Now I feel guilty I stayed at home. I’m able to work – but, also knowing that I would have a difficult day and I might have come back sick today if I would have gone.
Now I took care of myself right before getting real sick; but it makes me feel guilty. And I know how that doesn’t make sense. I feel weak, like I’m a person with a weak immune system, with lower energy levels, who calls in sick too quickly. In this world, it doesn’t seem to be about wellbeing. Yet I don’t really get why I know I should not feel guilty, I still do.

I seem to always have to be able to operate. And a moment like the train accident just makes me think: is it really worth it? Is it so bad to have to stop for a moment?

Sometimes the world stops for someone, and yet it just continues like nothing happens around. I don’t get where my head goes, and maybe the story doesn’t make sense.



The phonesdestroyer


Let’s face it: I’m a phone destroyer. My phones are just simple ones; suitable for calling and texting, and recently the most fancy things about my phones is the photocamera.

Now it sounds like I have a lot of phones, since I speak in plural, but I have just one working phone (and it’s not even working well).  The rest of my phones are non working phones.  Because I dropped them. Not once, not twice, no, probably over fifty times. Because somehow, and this has always been this way as long as I can remember, I can not use these things with care. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m clumsy, or that it’s something else, but I haven’t figured out what it is. Anyway, with phones, I can’t have a normal relationship.


I have had phones in the past that satisfied me, because they were decent and survived at least 20 crashes down. But, there always comes a certain point, that they don’t survive the crash.

Sometimes these crashs come unexpected, sometimes I see them coming, but mostly it’s already too late by then….the freefall has already started. The most stupid thing that happened the last time, is that when I dropped the phone, I immediatly stepped on it with my full weight. Oops.


Some time ago, before I went abroad, I thought it would be a good idea to get a smartphone,  which would be able to use WIFI and so I could check my email when I would be on the road. This was my biggest mistake ever. Needless to say, this happened, within 3 weeks:


Boom. It was broken. (Well, the smart part so far: I can still use it for WIFI. The only not so handy thing is that I can not call with it anymore, since some parts seem to be broken that are necessary to make phonecalls. )

Even now,  I have a half working phone. Needless to say, I dropped it many times. It still functions, but just with its own life and behaviour. I think I really need a shockproofphone. A very very very SHOCKproof phone. Or maybe I should put my phone in a tennis ball.

The Switch

For a long time now, I guess I am feeling the way I feel and I kind of dysfunction. I survive. Or at least, try to. Hope and give up. Fight and lose. Fight and try. Fall back. Get up. Fall back. Get up. Fighting against these hurricanes inside my head and heart. Hurricanes who want to tear everything apart. Boxing against this circle which never seems to break. My fists getting slowly injured.

Once, for a very long time before, I was a robot, a machine. No feelings. Just doing what was expected from me. Numb. Always trying or failing things in a way that I would remain invisible and silent, and not attract any form of attention. And I succeeded pretty well in that. Often, I gave false answers or did not say what I actually had to say, or thought, just not to put attention on me. Being invisible, seemed the best, and the safest.

But that machine broke down at a particular day. Just by one simple question someone asked me:

” How are you doing, and I mean by that, how are you really doing?”