Platform 4 — Story Time

As I sit here typing away in my warm home, a town miles from my hometown and far far away from my previous uninspired life - I think how different my life could have been if it wasn't for a snap decision made on platform 4 of Hastings train station.

It was around this time I was deep in the clutches of my newfound foe and forever passenger; anxiety. The all-night benders had reigned, only slightly. Smoking copious amounts of weed had slowed, marginally. All whilst trying to deceive myself and others around me that I was still 'fine' - even though I had been vocal about this new third-wheel monkey on my shoulder.

I was roughly six months into a relationship with a girl I had known for a while. Compared to the company I usually kept, she was as straight as a fucking arrow. She had known of my previous exploits and had eaten up this new facade I had portrayed to the public eye. “I was fine, I don't get that wrecked anymore - yeah I had a funny turn, but I'm over it and I'm all good now.” All said through gritted teeth as I tried to keep hold of my mask to stop it from slipping, exposing my reality. She too tried holding up my mask - with copious amounts of gaffer tape - wanting to act like I was fine and dandy - a model boyfriend, ignoring my actual exhausted and anxious form.

As I sat in my grotty bedroom in my equally as grotty flat, I tried to break our relationship off. I didn't want to live this fake existence anymore. I was desperate to wipe the slate clean and her too-optimistic-for-her-own-good outlook on life had addled my wellbeing to the point. Her tears, anger and guilt-tripping quickly led me to reverse my decision. As we went to sleep I felt suffocated and isolated that during this dual, I didn't stick to my guns.

A few weeks later on social media, I saw that an old friend was getting married in a town that I had long held close to my heart, but hadn't visited in years. I saw this as a prime opportunity to catch up with old friends as well as distance myself from my current relationship status.

I arrived at the seaside town with a long overdue feeling of freedom. Releasing by smoking weed on the first night with an old pal's dad until I passed out. The following night would be the wedding reception. The start of an untrodden path that was a million miles away from my doldrum grin-and-bear-it ongoing highway of existence.

Several drinks and a few bumps of coke later, I'm on the dance floor fuelled with confidence as I catch sight of a beautiful peroxide-haired girl. To my surprise she starts making a beeline in my direction - my over-exaggerated dance moves not swaying her decision to join me. After some time battling in my head, I knew I had to make a move. This was it. As I puckered up to kiss her I knew my already broken relationship had to come to a definitive end.

After days of constant partying - with the odd panic attack thrown in for good measure - it was time to go home and face the music. I had left a note in the peroxide-haired girl's room that simply read in capitals “I'LL BE BACK”. I had one day left to cut ties with my girlfriend (and hopefully my former life) before I had to go back to my gruelling and monotonous nightshift work.

I arrived at the train station with no time to spare and a lump in my throat. I didn't want to be taken from this cloud nine that I had floated on for the past week. As the train pulled in I was looking around everywhere for a get-out clause. And there I spotted it, in the form of a stranger. I quickly and nervously marched up to a girl sat cross-legged on the platform floor hurriedly exclaiming at her - “Excuse me, I'm in a bit of a situation. Either I get on the train and go back and break up with my current girlfriend or I get to spend one more day with the most amazing girl I've ever met, what shall I do?”

As seconds ticked by like a countdown clock she firmly spoke and the words will ring true to me forever.

“Fuck it, I'd stay.”

And with that I thanked her and turned around - making a hasty exit from the station as I grab for my phone. The conversation I had to break started simply with the words “I don't want to come back.” I felt like a complete bastard but as they say there is never a good time to break up with someone. Albeit there are better ways. For the best, I would never see this girl again.

After sharing a movie-like embrace and a whirlwind final day of my visit with the peroxide-haired girl, after a 7 hour train journey, I arrived into my hometown then straight into a Saturday night 12-hour nightshift. When I got back to my grotty flat at 7am, in deep need for my bed, there was a drug-heavy house party in full swing hosted by my tweaked-out housemates. As I walk up towards my room, I saw a man I didn't recognise fast asleep at the door who had pissed himself and all over the carpet to boot. This was also a final straw and testament towards my new path. I tracked down my housemates within the sea of gurning 18 year old harpies to break to them that I was moving out. To their amusement they thought I wasn't returning in the first place!

Eventually I first relocated to Barcelona and then settled in Hastings. With the peroxide-haired girl firmly at my side. Steering our ship through the rough tides and the smooth - now as my wife and mother to our two children. I often think back to that girl sat cross-legged on platform 4. I wouldn't be able to recognise her in a line-up to save my life even though in a way she had already saved mine. Thanks to her simple words, said so flippantly, that quick decision to stay was the best thing that ever happened.