8:56. I read the notice at the ticket booth’s glass window, which basically just said what time the stations are going to close. Panting as I ran desperately towards the closing doors of the train, I prayed to God that I don’t screw everything up this time. I frantically pushed the MRT card inside the slot mechanism, and had my consciousness of reasonability left me that instant, I would’ve hurdled over the metal fence panel so as not to miss the next train.

The doors had already closed. I shoved the sweat-drenched bangs -- that I’ve, yet again, forgotten to have cut -- off of my face, cursing under my breath. Sweat continued to flood from my pores while I tried catching my breath. Leaning against the support pole of the train’s seats, I twisted my wrist.

8:15. And then the train finally moved forward.

I looked at the door’s glass pane. From the reflection, I saw strangers’ eyes directed at me. What the hell is the problem with them -- haven’t they ever seen a girl sweating before? I should’ve shouted at the douchebags, because seriously, staring is rude, but instead I shoved my head to the side and humbly fanned myself with my free hand, feigning innocence, because shouting randomly is ruder, and a hell lot crazier. There are certain (unsaid) standards an eighteen year-old like me should conform to, after all. For example, don’t shout when inside a jam-packed train. In fact, don’t shout at all, because shouting is only for television drama characters. And insane people, definitely. Not that I’m saying I’m perfectly sane though.

Wait, that didn’t sound right.

Well, there wasn’t much to do but to look outside since I didn’t bring my beloved MP3 player with me. Why would anyone bring an MP3 player to a concert anyway? That might be common sense, but now I’m so bored and feeling awkward to death. Common sense can be so misleading sometimes.

I have to say though, the night lights can be pretty. It gave me this unexplainable feeling -- even if there really isn’t anything to recall, there’s just this nostalgic feel that surges through my body. Looking down on the road, I saw many different kinds of cars lined up because of the traffic and a few people crossing the streets with umbrellas over their heads. It just started to rain. And it made me feel even more… nostalgic, and I don’t even know why. I don’t even know if ‘nostalgic’ is the right word, but I think it’s the closest.

Once again I’ve proved that when you’re bored, awkward, and alone, you tend to think of things in a different (weird) light. It’s like your ideas can only be discussed with someone with a high intelligence level because if you tell it to just any other person, you’re going to be laughed at and ridiculed for being so damn sentimental. So I decided not to share these thoughts to anybody but myself.

I checked my watch again. It was already 8:30, according to it.

And now it feels as if I’m one of those heroines in television dramas; the ones that contemplate on complexities of life while riding the train. Having their innermost thoughts voiced out and all, with one hand against the glass pane at the door. It’s so freaking cliché-ish, and I hate it. And I hate the fact that it’s somewhat happening to me even more. I frowned at that, and shoved my head away from the door. Seriously, I need a boyfriend. Ideas like these are bound to get me crazy. Not that I think having a boyfriend will cure me of this thinking spree, but hey, I just felt like saying something stupid. Just to break my contemplation on the complexities of life.

I brought my fanning hand down and opened my shoulder bag, pulling my MRT card out of it. The driver person announced the next station, and from the instructions a friend told me, I should be getting off there. I looked at the back of the card to check if my memory was correct. If there was anything I hate more than clichés, it would be my neglect of instructions. That always gets me into trouble.

I still haven’t stopped sweating. Of all the days I had to forget my handkerchief, it had to be today. I also forgot to bring some tissue so I had nothing to wipe the sweat off but my hand. Well, if you’re sneaking out of the house anyway, it’s most likely to forget about trivial things such as handkerchiefs or tissues, which will always bite you in the ass in the end. At least, that’s how it was for me.

Finally the doors opened. Not that they haven’t been opening for the past five stations; it’s just that I’m already closer to home. Just one LRT ride and I’m back home and saved the day before bedtime. Okay, so maybe I didn’t save the world and all that jazz, but I sure am going to be home before bedtime. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately. Of course I’d get home sooner if I didn’t stare out in the star-filled sky, mouth agape, like an idiot. If I continued my one-man moron-fest any further I wouldn’t be home at all. So I started running like a madman. A homed madman is better than a homeless moron, after all.

Unfortunately, I’m not very familiar with this LRT station -- I barely knew my way around -- so I just followed a few people while I ran and sweat like a maniac. Earlier this afternoon I was very nervous because I thought I’m going to get lost in the stations, but I proved myself wrong. Even someone like me who usually can’t follow instructions right can actually… well, follow instructions.

I ran down the escalator and rushed towards the ticket booth, with my right hand clutching some coins ready to be paid to the person on the ticket booth. And what do you know, there wasn’t any line. I guess doings at the last minute doesn’t appeal to many people. Not that it appeals to me, of course.

Blinking red ants forming 8:45 -- that was the time according to the digital clock that hung just above me. I stood there quietly and simply stared at the red line before me, drawing imaginary figures on the tiled floor with my feet -- or foot, rather. Needless to say, I’m very anxious to ride the next train that I couldn’t help but complain inwardly on how long the train is taking before arriving here… and that’s when it hit me. I suddenly jerked then immediately looked around. It was good that nobody saw me. Sighing, I painted a goofy smile on my face then turned to the person next to me.

“Um, excuse me; I just wanted to ask something… will all the stations close at once when it’s already 8:56?”

The person next to me was a guy. I wasn’t using my head very well, and the only thing I could notice was that he had these humongous ear phones on him. If he was listening to anything then he probably wouldn’t hear me. I was kind of surprised when he turned to me, to which I replied with yet another goofy smile.

He smiled back, but only a little. I could tell that it was nothing but a courtesy smile -- the kind of smile you give to other people when there’s really nothing to smile about. “Err… no. The last train arrives at around 9, but the operation doesn’t stop there, really.” And then he turned away, looking across the other side.

“Ah, oh. Thank you very much,” I said. He turned to me again and nodded slightly, then turned away once more.

From my position I could see that he was simply staring blankly. I stared forward too, hoping not to give myself any more embarrassment. At least now I’m relieved that I’m going to get home without screwing things up. And I saved a lot of cash too, no thanks to scheming, good-for-nothing cab drivers. I have no intentions of spending a fortune riding a cab in the first place.

I looked at the time again, now consulting my wristwatch. Actually I would’ve figured that it had only been a minute since I last checked the clock, but looking at my watch is just one of my quirks when I’m alone and feeling awkward. Very much like what’s happening now, but then another question hatched in my brain. I really don’t want to bother the guy next to me again -- I swear I don’t -- but sometimes I just don’t think before I act. I don’t know if that characteristic of mine is a good thing or a bad thing, but now I’m really starting to think it’s a bad thing.

“Uh, excuse me, sorry to disturb you again, but is the next train the last train?” After saying that I really wished I could disappear into nothingness. What’s even more infuriating than my inability to follow instructions is speaking to people I don’t know. I’m not really angry at the fact that I have to talk to strangers; let’s just say I get very, very embarrassed beyond belief, and I’m not even sure why. I just don’t feel comfortable having to exchange even just a few words to people I don’t know.

The guy turned to me, sporting that courtesy smile again. I’m starting to hate that courtesy smile even though he had this pair of cute, thin lips and pinkish cheeks beneath the black tangles that was his hair. “No, I don’t think so,” he said, breaking my flowery train of thought.

My eyes widened and then I started bowing to him like an idiot. “Ah, I see, I’m really sorry to have disturbed you, thank you very much,” I said without even breathing. And then I turned away from him and focused on the platform on the other side, where a few people waited.

I still managed to see his reaction at the corner of my eye though; he nodded deeper than before, and his smile was a bit more genuine compared to the one earlier. It seems that I’ve amused him with my antics. I think this is the time that I stop watching those cheesy Japanese dramas because now I even adopt some of their habits. Like bowing, for example. I won’t be surprised if someday I blurt out a random Japanese word. And I hoped to God I won’t.

When I turned back to his direction, I saw that he was staring blankly at the other side again. It doesn’t seem like his eyes were directed at anything in particular; actually, it looked more like he was thinking. He was making the face that I made in this stolen shot my friend took when I was spacing out. Of course he looked better than me in that picture (I swear I’m gonna take that picture and burn it someday), but it was pretty much the same face. I thought he was going to look back at me so I quickly averted my eyes to the digital clock.

I grinned like an idiot again. I just couldn’t take my eyes off him, so I faked looking like I was waiting for the train to arrive -- well I partly was, that damn train was taking too long -- but I was looking at him at the corner of my eye. He was wearing one of those overly-printed hoodies over a plain white shirt, and his hands were at the pocket of his khaki shorts. I could say that he was wearing a cross body bag, but I’m not very sure since my vision was limited. He was very well dressed, I have to say, but of all the things about him, I liked his face the most. It was very gentle, and his genuine smile is nothing short of being heavenly. I badly wanted to ask his name, but I have this beef with it was with my public speaking issues.

Besides, the train’s already here.

The doors opened and people started to gather around, all wanting to get inside the train first. I really do get annoyed by this kind of attitude, especially now that there’s no need to rush since the seats are mostly empty. I restrained myself from forcing myself into that hype so I waited until everyone got in. But then I noticed him doing the same, so I ended up boarding the train before him. Normally I’d find that display of the ‘ladies first’ ideal somewhat condescending, but tonight I thought it was just… nice.

I settled myself on the vacant seat next to the door so that it will be easier for me to get off. I really didn’t need to do that since I was still eight stations away from home, and besides, there are plenty of vacant seats. Well, there are just some things I do out of impulse that even I can’t understand. But I guess this spot is fine too, since I can clearly see him from here, without having the fear of being caught looking at him.

He stood at the joint of the two cars, and I just can’t help but wonder why he was standing despite the fact that a lot of seats were still vacant. Maybe he was trying to be cool. Or he has this phobia in sitting. Or maybe he was in pain somewhere that he could only relieve himself from standing; I really don’t know. I wanted to know, though, but it’s not like I’m going to come up to him and say, ‘Hey, may I know why you’re standing?’ and humiliate myself even more than I should for one day. I’m not that shameless.

I noticed him reach for something in his pocket. If I had to guess, he must’ve turned his music player on, because afterwards he started slightly banging his head -- something that people do when listening to songs. It made me miss my MP3 player, again making me realize how boring it was inside trains. A part of me badly wants to go home due to all this awkwardness, but a part of me was content because I was seeing this boy.

Could I seriously be crushing on someone I’ve seen for the first time? And a stranger to boot?

Immediately I turned away and shook my head. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I find him adorable, yes; I feel my eyes sparkle when I lay them on him, yes; but this is just too idiotic even for me. I don’t live inside those dramas I see on TV. Feeling like this is just… not normal. At that I slapped my cheeks, not too loud so as not to attract attention, but strong enough to bring me back to my senses. I turned back and just looked at the scenery beyond the glass window.

It was still the same. Cars lined up, people minding their own lives, and the rain continued to bless the sleepless city. Although the view was very much different from the one I saw earlier, it still gave me the same feeling. Nostalgia. And it’s stronger now because I’m passing by the city that I once resided in. Now I’m living three stations away from it. I guess it’s really different now compared to when I was still living there -- that city didn’t have as much light as before. It didn’t have so many billboards watching over it. And it wasn’t as lonely before as it is now.

Once again my thoughts have been disturbed by the announcement of the train driver. He hasn’t been speaking at all for the past four stations. I furrowed my brows and decided to look forward. There was already a person sitting across me. It was an old lady, and she smiled at me. I was caught off-guard to say the least, and the only thing I could do was to return the smile. And then I turned away from her, but I could feel that her eyes were still latched onto me. I wiped my forehead then looked at my wristwatch. It was already 9:10. At least I’d get home before 10. Seriously, why do old ladies need to be so darn observant?

I noticed that all of the seats had already been occupied. I guess that was bound to happen since it’s only 5 stops until the last station. My eyes wandered off even more, and noticed the guy I pestered earlier was still in the same position as earlier. This time though he wasn’t banging his head. Suddenly, he turned to my direction.

That instant I could swear my heart just skipped a beat. I shoved my head away from his direction right away, feeling my cheeks turn pretty hot. Once again, I wanted to disappear into nothingness. And then I noticed that the door next to me just opened. I’m pretty sure that’s why he looked at my direction. At that moment I smiled like an idiot. Getting all worked up for nothing is stupid.

Just one station away from home. I stood up and gripped the metal bar next to me so as to support myself. One bastard then came rushing to my direction and settled himself there barely five seconds after I’ve vacated it. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. That was pretty much the longest five minutes of my life.

The train finally stopped. I was a few steps away from home, and I’m pretty damn happy that I got here in one piece. I got off the train then heard the train’s siren. As the doors closed, I felt like I wanted to stay there a bit more. I guess I wanted to verbally kick the ass of the bastard who practically slobbered at my seat. Or stare the old lady across me down to the point of discomfort. Or just make conversation with the cute guy I met earlier, which would probably fail because of my god forsaken issues. And now as I looked back at the train that moved forward, I felt even more like a television drama star. With a faint smile forming at my moistened lips, I turned back and moved forward myself.

I guess taking the last train isn’t as bad as I imagined.