And then, later, on a train It was dark out

 Here are some photos from a day in January of 2012:

None of these are in order, but they were all from the same day.

This was before I finally got my first smart phone (because I wanted to use Instagram). It's wild to think about how I once chronicled my entire life in hazy pixels, and even though we are lightyears beyond these in definition and  quality, they were still able to capture these moments. The photos are blurry, but memory of these times are not. A series of endless darkness, endless waiting, alone at train stations for extended periods of time. Now I would never, but then, for whatever reason, it didn't phase me. I get nervous just looking at these photos now.

There was just something ✨magical✨ about taking Caltrain. IDK, like, there was just something very romantic about it. For whatever reason, I did not have (and still do not have) the same shiny, romantic feelings towards BART. It was a bus, BART, and then Caltrain. Sometimes when I still pass through the old stations, I get a hit of nostalgia--not the good kind. There is a pit in my stomach when I think about that time--of being in love, of day dreaming about them, of spending the countless hours on transit day dreaming about the life we would have together. I hit about *those stations* and then I feel the ache in my chest, the anxiety of wanting to go somewhere, but being on the train and not being able to. I don't take Caltrain very much anymore because it's so bloody expensive and the act of getting to the station is now *a hassle*, which saves me from a lot of unnecessary trips down Bad Memory Lane.

It's crazy to think that a couple of weeks after these were taken, my entire life would change forever, and I would never again be the same.