Footstep papers

Today at Bank tube station road side, it was scattered in pages of white A4. I knew it had been a windy day, my corrupt mind at first deviled in bankers loosing their papers in the wind-it seemed everyone else may have thought so too as people were picking up pages as they walked through, like they had caught a treasure no-one else may have. Was it a rubbish truck, though why else would only just papers fly out?

I crossed the road, and crouching on the pavement bend was a courier, and there were his papers. My past experience exists of reception work and instructing couriers in which floor to go to. I felt this guy's pain. He was crouched on the floor, some papers held in a pile whilst passers by handed him the few they scrambled to reach. Most of the sheets were ruined already. I found this scene slightly enchanting. Perhaps it grew like colour in a City which almost always looks particularly grey. I wish those papers were leaves; the City has become a new home for me but still there is always something slightly a miss. When I leave and see the green again I feel a hell of a lot better. For a City which always seems the same view, the destruction of paper made it more interesting. Other than the usual coffee cup mess, we saw errors of those who build that place, of those that strut around and bump into you instead. I saw the error of the courier whose papers fell-was it really his fault? Who knew. I wonder how important those papers were, and whose life would be affected by them turning up late. I'm sure most would assume it would be the courier to blame-I hope there was no specific company deadline for those notes.

I walk the same route everyday, whether it's going to work in the morning or walking home post shift. That journey has grown old on me now and what makes still worthy for me, is my music. I hear a lot of people who wish time to pass by quickly, those that wish they 'could be there' within a click of a finger. But who would we be if we didn't have such time luxury? We would always be rushed and without a second to ponder-most of the time people complain they have no time to rest.

I used to walk around the City with someone else, they were slightly taller and more suited than me. He wore a white or blue shirt with simple tie and shoes. I became introduced into a life far beyond what I knew, in fact I still am living this life far beyond myself now because deep down I'm still trying to work it all out and settle down. My very close involvement with one person has shaped me forever, and the pace we had on our walks and our time traveling felt almost like no time travelled at all. Everything around us became our world to experiment with. It was almost perfect.

For me the morning has always been my favourite time of the day, and he seemed to quite enjoy it too. On our way to work we would hold hands and marvel with our surroundings; brick tunnels, coloured club lights at 8am, silly expressions on passers by. The best part was the consistency in talking about adventure. I think the biggest downfall was that I always wanted to explore him, where as he wanted to explore everyone else as well. Our relationship became patterned with a series of tease and false hope as elements of our lives tempted our will to carry on.

My biggest lesson yet is that instincts are best. I always had my instinct about this relationship but I chose to ignore it. We choose to be ignorant if we desire so.

I thought he knew best, I looked up to him. How he behaved made sense to me, I suspect it’s because he was how I wanted to be as well. He seemed sure.

And so, it all became such a big mess. Once the essence of rejection starts you'll start punishing that person forever, because after all how could you ever trust them? It was then that my instinct said carry on, everybody deserves another chance, because after all in the past I have been number one to cut throat writes them off as, they aren't the right person for you. Then, I still thought he was and I carried on against my doubts. Blind. Love is blind. Vulnerability is blind I should say. This boy broke up with me after I had been told my mother is dying. Was dying.

"she's not comfortable with it, she's not slept for three nights. The thought that she hasn't slept for three nights, I can't put her through that again"

I didn't get angry. I didn't shout. I just took it. I sat and cried and I just took it. It felt like bricks. It felt like heavy lead. It felt like someone had grabbed my mind and pressed something sharp against it. Is that what people do when they are so happy beforehand, perhaps its naivety. And so, I let him choose. I let him choose the other woman in the open relationship whilst I waited. I had to wait two weeks once he had gone on holiday with her to see if he could change her mind. I've been told most girls would have ran a mile from that situation then, but I didn't. So why? Love? I was just a mug. A fool. What made him different to anybody else? I think only he knows that...


My City walk for a few weeks after, became like mud. Slow, stewed and ill. It was like I were walking through sick. If those City papers were there on those days I felt my worst, I wonder if that mess could have seemed like my first warning. It was all a mess, and I chose to ignore it.