The 8am train rides in Japan are the worst.

Trapped in the cage of bodies pushed up tight

against your own. The air dense with sweat.

The clutching of bags. The confusion of not

knowing where to rest your eyes without

looking like you are plotting a thievery. The

heels that stabs your toes. The sense of being

powerless, out of control as you empty-mindedly

drift in the turbulent current of people. I dislike

the chaos of it all. But the worst part is the silence.

Which is funny because I like quiet. But I don’t

like the kind of ones like in the 8am train rides,

where every word you say would be heard by

dozens of strangers. Last month, when I was on

an 8am train ride in Nagoya, heading towards

Chikusa, I overheard four old women discussing

their bank status. Maybe they weren’t talking that

loud. But I could hear them from the opposite

side of the train, although I could barely see them.

The day before that too, I heard two middle aged

women, discussing about where they were going

to get lunch on the weekend. By the time I got

off the train, I even knew that they were meeting

at the entrance of JR Takashimaya at 6pm on that

Saturday. I feel bad. I don’t want to know all of

this. I feel like I’m hearing things I shouldn’t be

hearing. When I’m in the train, I also question if

I am the only hearing all of this. Are the group of

friends blankly staring at their phones also secretly

listening? Are the teenagers staring into nothing

with headphones also listening? Or is it just me.

Because I’m always the only one on the train without

a book or a phone in my hand, and without headphones

covering my ears.