Mr Bus Driver
Everyday feels like one. I wake up every morning only Everyday feels like one. I wake up every morning only to sleep and do it all again, what feels like an eternal loop of activities. I sound so dramatic and existential. I cringe in my head as i finish brushing my teeth, inspecting my dark cirlces in the bathroom mirror. I'm dreading school, the days recently feel completely the same, only slightly distinguished by lesson or the odd encounter at lunch. I enjoy fading into the background. I was never so much great at the whole social thing, the friends i have all slowly forming their own groups and growing lives and i was left. I dont mind it of course. I find something comforting in the blanket of loneliness, although i suppose i have to say that to make the fact that im just plain lonely a bit less sad. I put my hair up into a ponytail, the brunette curls falling just past my shoulders, frizzy from laying in my bed. I could just wallow all day but ive decided thats not the way forwards. As much as i dread the next seven hours i want to believe that im the lead in a movie and something dramatic might happen supposedly changing my life for the better. So what if its unrealistic? I aim to be an optimist.
I finally pull the tie around my neck and slip on my school shoes ready for the day. I need to catch my bus in the next ten minutes or im going to be late. I still have time, shovelling a breakfast bar in my face and checking the mirror one last time, checking that my mascara hasn't smudged. Is it weird i almost feel pretty? I smile to myself as for once i can appreciate my features. On that note, i sprint to the bus stop closest to my house and plug in my headphones, praying that if i stare into my phone hard enough i wont have to make eye contact with everyone else standing at the spot. Only a few faces that i unfortunately recognise but i know the second i look up my cheeks will go red.
After what feels like an eternity (although in reality its probably only been about five minutes) the bus pulls up and i drag myself up the steps. I like watching the people around me, it seems to be a good pass time. This morning in particular, i decided to look at the bus driver. An old man im his sixties i'd say. He looks older and tired and like he never saw his life going this way but he wishes it hadn't, he stares out the window every so often before turning regretfully back at the card machine and asking the chatting teens for their bus passes. I wonder how many people this man sees on his daily route, i wonder how many actually stop and talk to him.
Moving up the steps of the bus so im sat on the top floor i let myself day dream a bit. I invent a back story for our Mr bus driver downstairs and find entertainment in my silly little story.
His name is Luis, he was born in 1962 and believes life was "simpler" back then. Back in his day, he was quite a handsome fellow and he knew it, spending his adolescence widely known as a playboy before finally settling down with a woman named Dorothy, she had lived down the street from him since childhood and it had taken years for either one of them to confess their feelings. Happily married with twins, a boy and a girl, he got a job at a law firm and enjoyed his job for many years before retiring after the passing of his wife. He eventually got bored with the new quietness in his life and signed up to train as a bus driver, hoping to fill his days with new purpose.
I open my eyes and sigh, noticing my reflection as my head rests against the glass. I now felt that whoever it truly was driving below me was a lot more human than he had been twenty minutes before. I decide that next time i get on, i should stop and talk to him, maybe ask about his day. My focus shifts and i can hear kids shuffling and laughing a few rows in front of me. Out the window, i can just about make out the stop for my school, around the corner and past the trees. Maybe today would be the day things improved. I hadn't felt quite this positive in a while and i could feel hope blooming in my chest.
