I chose to get on the train.

I have been sitting in the snow for hours.
Just sittting, staring at the fumes caused by my breath.
My pants are soaking wet. I don't even have shoes on.
My hands are hidden in my coat pockets.
My nose no longer is runny or irritated. Just simply frozen.
I missed the train last night. And the night before. I always miss the train.
Every night, it stops by my house with loud bells and screaming exhaust pipes.
My heart rushes and I get excited, I really do. Then, i seem to... just stare at it.
Sure, I've pictured myself getting on that train and smiling rather big.
I've pictured myself chasing that train with all that these legs can perform on icy streets.
I've dreamed of what I would do when I get on that train.
With a heroic jump, I would cling on to the train's railing. Then I would climb the train.
I would walk down the train aisles, people would be astonished by the stranger panting by them.
Eventually I would make it to the front of the train. I'd swing open the conductor's door with a boldness.
I would tap the conductor on his shoulder. He would turn around and say nothing but hold me. He would maybe even cry. I would quietly say to him, I'm home. I'm home, conductor.
But... then I open my eyes and I remember that it's just my imagination.
That, I'm still staring at that red train in the bitter snow.
And I start to laugh because of my stupidity. But, that's when the tears come, as well.
I miss the train every night. And every night that conductor looks out of his window at me.
He smiles at me. In fact, captures my gaze. And with his welcoming train whistle, he calls to me.
You see, I've been on this train before. That's why I'm attached to this red train and that conductor.
I was on this amazing train ride, then I jumped off. Something caught my gaze in the snow.
I jumped off for that shiny object. No one could stop me from jumping, not even the conductor.
It's all about choice. And I once chose to get on that train. Then once chose to jump off.
I've been in this snow too long. I know this. I've known it for half a year. I've known it my sleep.
They laid out all the facts for me, all the maps, all the truth of where I belong, on that train.
They gave me the truth and I acknowedged it. But, no action played. No muscle moved.
No attempt was made to get up. To run. To crawl to that train. To cling to the last hope of life.
This is what happens when you know the truth yet have no will to take that truth and run with it.
But. What if, what if I chose tonight to climb on that train. What if I did?
It's possible. What if I did run or even crawl to it? If I climbed that train and walked to the conductor?
That would change everything. Nothing special has to happen to me. No miraculous sensation.
No happy feeling, no inspirational sign. I have a choice. Will I choose life on the train with that conductor? Or death in the snow of bitterness yet hold on to my shiny object? It's a choice. My choice.
I am no fool yet no wise owl. I've compared this shiny object to the train many times.
Somehow, the object's shiny apperance always wins my affection. Not any more.
This life in the snow has nothing but a dangerous sleep in its white covers, a sleep of white death.
So here it is. No huge declaration, no fireworks of thrill, no sensation background music playing.
I choose to be on that train. I choose to be with that conductor and his adventrous train ride.
I'm getting on my knees. I'm crawling. I'm crawling faster. I'm walking. I'm jogging. I'm running.
I'm sprinting after the train. I'm screaming. I'm jumping on the train. I'm climbing the train. I'm on the train. I'm on it. I'm walking past all the shocked passengers. I'm panting down these aisles.
I'm swinging the conductor's door wide open. I'm tapping him on the shoulder. I'm being embraced by him. I'm telling him, "I'm home. I"m home, conductor." I'm on the train with my conductor. I'm alive now.