All my efforts to not notice the cracks in the window's glass annoy me a bit, sometimes that was something I did. People around me are clutching onto anything that helps them maintain balance, causing perturbing thoughts that possess me, and questions like how many promises have I broken so far? Do I even care? What if all of the agony that I and most of my fellow citizens whom I take the bus with, would never end? And I probably have the answer, the one that generally translates to no one really knows.
But I can’t help but stare, stare at people older than me, adults with jobs, mothers with kids clinging to their clothes, demanding a safe haven, often getting yelled at for not staying put, lovers who share glances and whispers under the relentless stares of strangers, elders look like they are waiting for death, the destroyer of worlds. They look tired, hopeless and with no sparks in their eyes, okay, maybe that is just an unrealistic thing that stayed with me from romantic monologues, the “eyes sparkling” is such a dreamy made up thing, that’s what I choose to believe now, maybe i’ll give up on that belief tomorrow when i’m in a slightly better mood.
I could be exaggerating, what I'm blurting out here is the result of a compilation of prejudices I've been raised upon, see I've always been told that I have got a bright future ahead of me and needless to say, I’m doubting that right now. if i said this out loud so many close ones would hurry to tell me to kick these thoughts off of my brain, and how dare I even question the relatively many years I spent in school, doing god knows what, passing exams, faking my facial expressions to seem like i get my lessons and that I fully understand every little detail, how dare I? I'm supposed to be one of the brightest, smartest students in this country -so I’ve been told- but probably so were most of the ones riding the bus with me. It worries me and I hope I'm wrong. I could think of hundreds of excuses, but what’s the point? We all go under different adversities and no one’s privilege is the same as the others’.
(yes, a very compelling take on things, but it’s the same words we read in inspirational instagram posts, ones that leave me more hung upon things than before.)
When we're tired and falling apart, we spend hours and hours, doing all the worrying over the past, over the future and the endless possibilities, sometimes.
when we wake up at night from a nightmare we get attacked by our own brains, wretched thoughts as swords ripping through our consciousness and sending shivers down our spines, what if I died tomorrow? Followed by “I can't die tomorrow”, I need to finish that essay, what if they think I'm a horrible person, what if in fact I'm a terrible friend, what if I genuinely don't care about anyone but myself, to what extent I’m letting my selfish take over? Does he think of me? Does he notice when I'm not around? What if I'll never make my parents happy? what if all the early risings and the public transport waiting is endless? Will I ever own my own car? What have I learned in the last five years? Academically, aside from the fact that automated systems are complicated, I just know that the thrill of learning is gone, forever?
did the cavemen lose their passion for fire after a while from discovering it? bold of me to compare my doubts to cavemen’s primitiveness, I say to myself at least they knew nothing of the world’s recent cruelties, but what does that even mean, surely we all do live in the same big, marvelous, wretched world, but differentiated by our personal perceptions of life; yet we share the human emotions like fear, sadness and love. I let myself get taken away by my own prejudices about deep feelings and the seductive sense of intimacy and coziness, ones I acquired from movies, books and songs, and now I have trouble adjusting to my reality, sometimes the caveman's life seems better than the one I ended up rejecting.
And lately i’m constantly reminded by what Frank O’hara said :”In times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love.”
Reading the word “Crisis” is really triggering lately, old wars suppressed by new ones, news preying on our short memory; this fast paced way of living is demanding me to be dynamic and always on the go ( I learnt the “fast-paced” adjective while I was on a hunt for a resume description, found out that apparently everyone wants to work in a fast-paced environment, whatever that means). I eventually forced myself to become phasing in and out of self awareness, forgetting my safety kit (the one that Frank O'hara is referencing, my loved ones),I tend to neglect how much I need it, it was not on purpose, no prior intent.
I keep forgetting how ill I can get when I don't carry it around. Sometimes I'm fueled by my love for privacy and the power it gives me upon the ones around me, even if I know that they genuinely care, I convince myself that I'm able to stand up for myself, hold it in. well, until i walk the very long way to the bus station, right then and there, I catch myself feeling alone, as soon as I start self loathing, a voice shouts from within, urging me to enjoy my own company, and I feel compelled to do so, not out of courage, but out of need.
On that long road, whenever I forget my earphones or misplace them, I fall into the trap of misplacing my own nostalgia too, and oh god, so many things I have lost and I wonder where am I if they’re not there? too unsettled of a thought. Sometimes I catch my own self-saddened aura and I grieve knowing that there is a big chance I’m sad over a problem that didn't happen and probably won’t too, I end up getting a tiny bit mad because I’m not right, for I’m not sad when I should be, for I’m on a bus with dozens of people who are full of frustration and I feel the need to join; and that I successfully and eventually end up doing half the way to my bus stop.
So you see Mr O’hara, I’m often neglecting the ones that I love, I am often inside my own shell, and once I am, I do not wish to be disturbed, which is probably wrong and I hate the fact that you are right (nothing personal though).
Feeling the sting of self-consciousness on a daily basis, what have I done, what have I not done, what incongruity am I doing encore. all that makes me hurry to check up on the ones I love, the same way they hurry to reassure me and confirm to me without any proof, how i’ll definitely be successful one day.
I find myself going down that slippery old road of accomodating and pleasing everyone, like” look at me I am being good to you and now you shall keep loving me”, or “here is my extra effort for you, yes just you, you know I love you right? even though I went MIA in your life.” and my favorite one yet “hey I just checked up on you randomly, now love me more.”
I can’t afford to decide over and over again whom I love, once I love a person, there is no going back, worst case scenario, I hold a dear spot until further notice.
That is probably my excuse, the one I will use for being so incoherent and in a rush, always.
I got off the bus and the road seemed almost unreal, I remembered a dream where I was also on a bus (my eternal Inferno). The road ahead was painted all blue, and it seemed to go on without a limit. no bus stops along the road, I was just there, looking at the color blue extending itself on every turn. If I had to describe it with one word, I’d say it was comforting (yet very trippy).
I finally looked at the passengers still riding this large hideous vehicle, saw a woman yelling at her child to stop crying and I felt something that almost resembled resentment for the fact that ‘I'm making this trip tomorrow again, and again till the weekend comes.
