REALIZATIONS
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Getting to Prague
Before I get to the part about my realization and reality check, let’s talk about the journey from Berlin to the Czech Republic—my first train ride from country to country! At this point, there was a lot happening internally, and this was finally the leg when my brother was on his way to meet me for his first time in Europe. Meanwhile, I was feeling and being a wreck, hoping not to ruin his experience with everything I was carrying. My thoughts kept circling how cool it was to be riding the train between countries, but of course, nervousness crept in—this was yet another new experience to face.
Once I got to the station and found the proper train—the 13:16 Berlin Hbf (tief) Deutsche Bahn EC 175 to Prague—it was fairly simple. You can go on Google and buy a train ticket from Rail Ninja or book via TheTrainline; usually, the cheapest way is buy directly at the station. Purchasing online usally is more convenient and it’s straightforward.
The Ride
This was the moment I’d been waiting for—a chance to finally exhale after nonstop movement, travel logistics, and feeling my energy pulled in every direction. The biting cold still lingered on my skin as I settled into the warmth of the train. The soft rumble of the tracks beneath me, the steady hum of quiet conversations, and the gentle sway of the carriage felt like a long-overdue embrace. For the first time in days, I could just sit back, breathe deeply, and let the world blur by outside the window.
As I settled into my seat and the train eased forward, the rhythmic hum of the wheels became a strange comfort, pulling steel, stories, and strangers through the snowy silence toward Prague. I checked in with my brother, already on his way to meet me. For the first time in weeks, I let my shoulders drop and breathed a little deeper.
But behind that exhale was a storm—four deaths in my orbit, grief layering over grief. My cousin gone by his own hand, another to a brain aneurysm, my grandmother faded from dementia, and Bill, a good friend, all gone in what felt like a blink. My marriage was teetering. My mother unraveling in her own way! A pain that hit my heart and soul in a way I couldn't describe.
Opening my journal, I picked up where I’d left off, circling the same question: Do I stay, or do I start over? After years of building a life that looked perfect from the outside, it was all quietly unraveling on the inside. Grief, doubt, depression—all of it spilled onto the page, sometimes with a few tears I couldn’t hold back.
The train rumbled on. Outside, German villages and snow-covered roofs blurred past like memories I was still trying to process. I stared out the window, trying to find beauty in the stillness—feeling, for a moment, like Anastasia, drifting quietly through unknown lands.
Modern Masculinity
On this trip, I found myself wrestling with what it really means to be a man, especially as “Red Pill” talk and OnlyFans content started taking over social media. The world felt chaotic—not just on the streets with violence and unrest in America, but online too, where men and women seemed locked in a new kind of spiritual warfare. Suddenly, everyone was a content creator or an influencer, amplifying debates about gender, value, and identity.
Growing up, my father wasn’t in the house, but he was always around. Still, my view of masculinity was skewed—keep everything bottled up, never cry, never speak about your pain. But what happens when life actually breaks you? When you’re dealing with back-to-back grief, loss, and a marriage on the rocks, all while the world is falling apart?
I caught myself scrolling through endless videos about “high-value men,” hypergamy, and other buzzwords—concepts we’d already been living, just without the labels. It’s easy to see how those online spaces feed our pain, especially when you’ve been hurt before. For a while, they fed mine too. But eventually I started to notice something deeper and, honestly, unhealthy happening in me—a kind of anger that just didn’t feel right.
Looking back, I realize that in the African American community, a lot of us didn’t have real role models—the rappers, athletes, players and gangsters were the guys women seemed to love, but they didn’t represent me. Even growing up, I moved differently. I wasn’t that archetype, but I also wasn’t sure what I was. Now, I can see I was already carrying a different kind of masculinity—one I’m still defining for myself, on my own terms.
Window seat
Eventually, the gentle sway of the train and the sounds of “Friday Morning” by Khruangbin set the vibe. I finally started to relax, letting the music wash over me. Sure, there was a lot on my mind and heart—big decisions still waiting to be made—but for a moment, I could finally exhale.
THE REALIZATION: This trip was changing the very fibers of who I was. Even with all the newness, her memory lingered in the back of my mind. So much was shifting inside me; honestly, this was just the beginning—a whole world of changes waiting on the other side.
I was headed to Prague with no idea what to expect. Would the castles and landscapes feel like something out of Disney World? Part of me just needed someplace different—beautiful, cheap, and new enough to force me out of my head.
As the train rolled through the snowy countryside, trees and mountains sliding past the window, the crisp snares and mellow melodies from the track became exactly the medicine I needed. Rocked by the rhythm of the rails, I drifted into a soft state of bliss, letting the gentle motion and music carry me off into a rare, peaceful nap—even if only for a little while.
