Thank God for Anonymity

I was sitting at the train station where I was waiting to go somewhere far. I don't remember how many times I used to be in this station to go nowhere, but a nowhere that was too close. So many people. They never end. Where could they be going? For sure they're not actually going anywhere, not like me. And then I see them. Ghosts. There passes a guy who I have no idea what his name is, but was from my high school. That was long ago. I remember directing a word to him some point in time. I see, he's still around, but who is he? No one, a ghost, a ghost of this place, people don't want to leave here, they can't imagine it, I know because I was the same.
Shortly after another ghost passes, even more tenuous to recall. I know the face for sure, the feeling I get is that I was entering high school when he was leaving, though I can't even be sure that I would care to know. He has a suit, looks like he's doing alright for himself, because he has a suit, he's got it made probably, then why is he here still? Because he doesn't have it made, at all, he's also a nothing, walking around, breathing, the bare minimum. Ghostly.
But I'm happy, I didn't have to make eye contact with the ghosts, or even aknowledge their existence. It's true oftentimes the anonymity of the metropolis is painful, to be completely alone in a sea of people. But if living in a village would make me interact forcefully with these ghosts my whole life, then I wholeheartedly embrace the invisible walls between people of modern civilization. I'd rather have walls that I can tear down with enough strength than to be a Ghost.