The Miserable Man

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

There’s a man growling to himself sitting in front of me on the train. He’s making all sorts of strange, guttural noises as he marks up a sheet of paper in front of him with a pen. He grunts. Sighs loudly. Stands up. Checks the bag in front of him. And sits back down.

He clears his throat. Mutters something under his breath. “Son of a - !”

He’s making ME antsy.

What could be making him so miserable? Life is too short to give yourself a heart attack. It’s (just) Monday. Breathe a little. And spare me the pain of having to listen to you in all of your misery.

Sigh louder if you must. But please let it go. You’re really stressing me out! It’s not even 8am on a Monday, yet you’re clearly having a bad day. An even worse week. Maybe it’s time for a little self-reflection...

Loud music blares out of his headphones. I listen closer. It’s giving me some sort of electronic, techno vibe. That could explain his unpleasant demeanor - I can imagine that type of music being too much for anyone’s ears to handle at this hour.

I’m waiting for him to shout out. I’m kinda scared. But I feel it building, and I’d like for him to get it over with. So I can jump in fear and then move on. He’s like a tightly packed bundle of festering energy. Ready to explode. A ticking time bomb. That doesn’t belong...

Give me some peace. This is my train ride. My commute. My Monday. I don’t need any of your nonsense.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Alas, I’m stuck here with this disgruntled man for at least an hour. Unless he gets off at a different stop than me along the way. I wonder if he is aware of the impact he’s having on me and likely everyone else in this train car. Is he yearning for some type of attention? Does he need someone to talk to? I really don’t want to listen. I’d rather that he’d handle his personal problems himself... with a friend or family member he trusts, or with a qualified professional. But if a conversation with me is what it takes to defuse his fury, I’m happy to take one for the team and put to rest his negative energy.

Thank god, it doesn’t need to come to that. He’s left the train on his own accord. Or so it appears. He’s left his seat. That much I can confirm. I feel bad for whoever must deal with him now. But I am so glad to let him go. Let him be miserable elsewhere.

Goodbye, friend. Take all of your pent up, negative energy along with you. And might I suggest you seek out some help? I, for one, would rather not deal with you again.

Originally written 4/29/2019