The train thunders past as I run to try and catch it, but in vain. “Fuck!” I yell out causing an old man with a stroller passing me to turn his head and give me a disapproving look. “Fuck you too grandpa!” I add with such anger he hastily scurries away. I realise there is absolutely no way for me to make it on time anymore. Defeated, I slide down the wall onto the platform and start to cry, or rather sob uncontrollably, you know, with snot ending up all over your face. Someone taps me on the shoulder. “Sorry miss, but are you okay? I know train tracks are a very common suicidal spot and it would hurt my heart seeing someone as beautiful as yourself jumping.” That’s probably the worst opening sentence I’ve ever heard, but despite everything it is the nicest thing someone has said to me in a long while. I look up.