Caught up between which train to take last Wednesday and decided to take the nearer one, the MRT. I've been pretty familiar with the MRT since we moved to Bulacan and not to brag but I think I'm already built to withstand the intense boxing out scenarios whenever the train arrives at Ayala station.
But what happened last night was another firsts, being a commuter. Long lines. I guess that says it all. It's a common sight to have long lines at Ayala Station but the lines I saw last night made me exhausted on a higher level. It's as if we're in a middle of a zombie invasion and all we need to do is to cross the border. But like in the movies, they won't let us pass. There are instances that I just want to lay myself down, not to attract attention nor to show protest but to let everyone know how tired I am and that I'm just giving up.
It's as if we're riding a big MRT train, crowded and like canned sardines. The only difference with the real train is that we're not moving.
In the end, I managed to get through; didn't really have much of a choice since it's quite too late to turn back. Just thank God for letting me pass, for letting me survive, and for always guiding me with all my trips. I hope, though, that I wouldn't experience stuff like this again.