Tell me again (aka Insomnia IV)

Tell me again
why you hate me.
Tell me again
how you love me.

Tell me again
what makes you run away.
Tell me again
what keeps you here.

Tell me again
why you worry about me.
Tell me again
how it's all in my head.

Tell me again
what I can do to make you mine.
Tell me again
how I can avoid you forever.

Insomnia III

My mind is whirling and I don't know why.
Is it something to do with that guy?
Maybe it's that coursework due date.
Or just something weird that I ate.

I wish it would just be be silent.
Or else I'll easily get violent.
This lack of sleep is getting stupid.
Just like my friends playing cupid.

Travelling Canada VIA rail. - a complete rewrite of my Place Writing Piece.

The Trans-Canadian railroad gives its passengers a magnificent view of some of the most picturesque landscapes of Canada. Passengers can either enjoy the views  of mountains coated with snow and winding river-carved canyons from the luxury glass dome seating area or from the confines of their own cabins.

I chose to spend my three day journey from Jasper to Toronto within my own cabin, as an introvert I didn’t particularly want to try and navigate the narrow passages of the train cars and risk getting thrown into my fellow passengers on steep bends. This gave me a private and unrivalled seat for the passing scenery to indulge myself in.

Occasionally the porter in charge of the car I was in would pop his head through my door and ask if I was okay, being only sixteen and spending a lot of time by myself in this very foreign environment. I would assure him that I was fine, even showing him the writing that I had produced in the few hours he had left me alone, as a goodwill gesture he would give me little chocolates that the porters left on the pillows of the beds. I must’ve eaten about twenty of those chocolates in three days. It was very thoughtful of him.

When we weren’t gliding alongside the roaring white water rapids of various rivers, we’d be sat in a bypass waiting for eternities as freight trains ambled past; apparently in Canada rail freight is more important than tourists. I would take this opportunity to wander to the outside viewing platform to get some fresh air without getting bugs stuck in my teeth or my hair restyled to rival Frankenstein’s bride.

Every now and then I would happen to run into this boy who was on the same holiday package as my family, his name was Will and he was from Hawaii, a fair way away from England. He was a quiet lad and he wasn’t much younger than me so we’d occasionally exchange stories about our different childhoods; mine of rainy English summers spent in woodlands and his of sunny beach holidays spent surfing the ocean waves.  It was nice to have a conversation with someone other than the porter.

The benefit of staying in my own cabin was that I didn’t have to go to sleep at any specific time, this meant I stayed up until one a.m. on this particular night. As I decided to finally get some sleep, breakfast being served at the ungodly hour of eight, I glanced out the wide window next to my bunk into the darkness. Something caught my eye in the distance, at first I thought it was another outpost or road crossing judging by the white light however the fact this light was pulsating and seemed to disappear briefly for seconds at a time said otherwise.

The train continued to surge into the darkness, towards this white light that had piqued my interest. The longer I watched it the more convinced I was that this was some kind of outdoor light show or aircraft hanger in operation.  As the train slowed down to sit in a passing loop again the lights seemed to have spread across the horizon, pulsating at a faster rate than I had originally seen. We sat in the loop, my eyes fixed on the sky where these lights seemed to now be originating from.

Lightning, I deduced a second later when the flash illuminated the trees. It was lightning. I hadn’t seen such an active sky. The train lurched forward, moving once more, carrying me towards the storm which had made no noise as of yet and not a single drop of rain had fallen.

The sky lit up every few seconds, lightning crawling across the dark clouds like a spider web woven between leaves on a tree. I was in awe, sitting up so I could marvel at the weather England seldom saw. In a way I felt selfish, that I was one of the only people likely to be awake at this hour and I had a front seat to this spectacular demonstration of nature, this beauty that I had never really laid eyes on first hand.

I felt in touch with the wilds of the country, where the city lights did not reach so nothing was watered down by pollution, I could see Mother Nature’s power in full swing with nothing but a pane of glass between me and her.

The next morning I was greeted by my porter as I made my way to breakfast.

“Did you see the storm last night?” he asked with a smile, somehow I think he knew that I was likely to have seen it. “I don’t think many people did, you’re lucky.”

That I was, for my parents had not seen it, nor my new friend Will, it made me feel like Mother Nature had given me something to take away from my trip to Canada; more than the cheesy maple leaf keyrings or the ‘I love Canada’ shirts from the gift shop. I had witnessed the hidden character of the country and that made the seven hour flight home worth it.