[ WP ] You are a `` normal '' person trying to fit in in a world where everyone is a psychopath .


 I hate taking the train the morning. 
 
 It ’ s hard to finish your latest chapter in, “ What Am I Doing Wrong? ” when all you can hear is the same incessant screaming that you endure the same time each day, each morning. You think Chett would get sick of sticking his hand out the broken train door, dragging his bony stub along the cement wall as the train carouses at 75mph. 
 
 But no. He doesn ’ t. 
 
 “ Chett. Could you please stop? I ’ m trying to finish this book. It ’ s very interesting. ” He turned and looked at me with a face streaming with tears; half pleasure, half pain. His face was beat-red and an intense sweat covered his brow. Before Chett could open his mouth to speak, another common train-goer beat him to it. 
 
 
 “ Chehhtt, Could you nahblah nanablhEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAH ” The woman to my right spat in my face. Literally. I could taste her breakfast there was so much. The toughest thing about my life is nobody understands me. I ’ m different. Very different, at that. Everyone around me is so full of life and laughter, causing themselves and many others pain. But not me. I prefer a quiet life of reading and listening to music. I hoped to become a teacher one day when I grow older, but I ’ m not sure I could handle it seeing as how differently I operate from the general public. Why was I born so different... 
 
 
 The woman finally stopped laughing inches away from my ear and I casually wiped the sheen of spit from the side of my face. She was merely chuckling under her breath over and over now, staring at me with a great determination. 
 
 
 “ Good morning, Mary. Are you off to visit your nephew today again? ” I inquired, remembering a mental note I made to never strike eye contact with her. 
 
 
 “ HAHAHAAH NOOOOOOOO! ” She practically screamed. “ I killed him. He ’ s dead. Killed him dead I did. Dead did I did dead he ’ s dead we ’ re dead. ” 
 
 
 “ Ah, I see. Aren ’ t you going to miss him since you killed him? ” It was so very hard to keep a casual face. Chett decided to chime back in. 
 
 
 “ Nawwwww, Mary won ’ t miss the shit. ” He said factually, shaking the blood off his arm from his daily train-door-flaying. “ He was a silly nugget. A silly nugget full of red jam jelly. ” 
 
 
 “ Peach jam jelly! ” Mary corrected. “ It was peach. ” She pulled a picture from her purse that I only glimpsed for about half a second. From what I understood, it was a picture of her dead nephew. “ Peach jam jelly ” was covering the wall and floors. 
 
 
 “ That ’ s a very nice picture, Mary. ” I stated simply. I found it best to keep my replies kind, simple, and to the point. That way I avoided all the unnecessary banter that came along with arguing at these types of people. There was just no winning in it. 
 
 
 I watched out the window now, drowning out Chett ’ s moans and Mary ’ s continuous chuckling. The trees flew passed in a mush of green and blue. It was a beautiful day outside; I could tell by how warm and bright my window had become. 
 
 
 The train began to slow now, allowing passengers time to collect their belongings which, more than not, were strewn across the floor. I grabbed my backpack from above and stood there, holding the hand-rails with extra strength knowing all too soon the train would come to a halt, jerking me forward if I didn ’ t. 
 
 
 A soft beep-boop was heard, signaling that the intercom was about to go off. “ Passengers please get the FUCK OFF MY FUCKING TRAIN BEFORE I FORGET HOW TO USE THE BREAKS NEXT TIME. ” Another soft beep-boop sounded. 
 
 
 I shouldered my backpack, stepped over a corpse, walked around a lady covered in cooking grease, and made my way back home from school. Today was a good day; I was sure of it. 

