girl in the bus
I sat in the bus 335 alone on my way home like any other thursday - thinking about him, thinking about me. About the past week and i realised how my days bleed into each other, the hours connect, attaching at the side. The structure of days, hours and seconds is abolished, at least in the calendar of my mind. My sleep is often insufficient and i have those irritating little headaches with a throb reminiscent of a bad hangover.
I once read that all emotions feel alike in the body. Good and bad - they provoke the same physiological sensations. I don't know if i can totally buy that because you look at someone getting red-faced angry and they don't seem to be experiencing the same bodily feelings as someone in euphoria.
And i wonder if anyone who looked at this ordinary looking girl in a tshirt and jeans, staring out at the window with brow wrinkled in consternation, chin in hand, elbow on that little 'hem' that ran on the inside of the bus.
Can they see the disappointment and confusion that coursed through me now and then and how i'm sick with myself, with everything else that seems to be spinning out of control? Or do they just see someone deep in her own compendium of useless daydreams of a warm shower, some hot soup and perhaps that heavy file of notes sitting in her lap.
I looked down at my other hand resting on top of the file and i remembered all our bus trips home, the joke about being connected by a 157 bus, about how well our hands seem to fit together and how he used to make little swirly circles with his thumb on my hand sometimes and how it feels like home with my head against his right shoulder, that funny familiar scent of the soap he used which i said it smelt peachy but i secretly liked it anyway, how it doesn't seem enough just holding one hand and the other free one eventually found his as well and it must have looked so silly but we didn't give a damn, and oh a thousand and one little things like these.
I looked back to the window, willing these thoughts away, waiting for that pull to reality.
Now i'm dreaming that i can sleep right now and it will be tomorrow. I will make tea and try to concentrate and write and suffer though an agonizing day but he will be next to me instead of a different continent, smiling down at me with such tenderness that i half-wish i will never wake up again and what ever happened before today doesn't matter anymore.
I am in the wilderness,
You are in the music
In the man's car next to me.
Somewhere in my sadness,
I know I won't fall apart completely.
When I need to be rescued,
And I need a place to swim,
I have a rock to cling to in the storm.
When no one can hear me calling,
I have you I can sing to.
-Sade
Labels: introspection
