Just talked to a guy on the train who was nearly in tears when our eyes met. I asked him if he was ok and he looked back at me and said no.
I told him I would listen to him for the duration of our ride, and that sometimes talking to a stranger helps put things in to perspective.
He is an ex marine who served time in Iraq and came back to the states with PTSD and suicidal tendencies. He kept repeating…”I fucked up my entire life for nothing.” Nightmares invade is sleep, and his mind often repeats a scene from the time his battle buddy got his head blown off sitting right next to him.
“God wont forgive me for carrying out missions to kill.” he said.
His face was worn out. I could see pain slip through the silence between his sentences. He looked at me, and asked If he was a bad guy for doing what he did. I said “of course not.”
All I could do was listen.
Right before he got off the train, he thanked me for listening and said his name was Billy. I shook his hand before he got off the bus, but I really wanted to hug him. The bus took off, and as I looked out the window, Billy waved goodbye with a blank look on his face. I watched until he faded into the sidewalk.
There are so many damaged people in the world. I met another one today.
