Sunday, September 10, 2006

Entry 3

I stood near the back of the bus holding on to the overhead support as hard as I could. It was ridiculously unstable. I glanced at it in annoyance. What is the point of making a bloody stabilizing contraption the most flimsy thing in the world? I shook my head and glanced back down. A woman sat in front of me. I shot a quick look at her face and met her eyes staring back at me. Green eyes. Or hazel. I don't know. I looked away quickly. I was never good with stare-me-down contests. Or eye colour. I stared down at my toes, then up at the overhead support, then down at my toes again. It was awkward. I was awkward. Every single day. It was the same. If I got a seat, good. I could stare down at the floor or out the window. If I didn't, well crap, because in a bus your eyes can never rest on a point too long, because almost every point is occupied by someone. Stupid points. Desperate to give my eyes a rest, I crouched down a bit to be able to look through the window behind the green-eyed woman. Hazel-eyed. Greenish-hazel. I must have looked a bit strange with one arm securing my bag on my shoulder, the other stretched to its limit clutching the overhead and my whole body tensed in this semi-crouch, because the woman shot me a confused look. I didn't care. I didn't like closed spaces. And my eyes needed rest. The window was my only escape. So I stared. At the city. At the people. Somehow, everyone was in a rush. People passing each other. No eye contact whatsoever. That was taboo! Come on! Annoyed looks and frustrated whispers floated around whenever the person in front was walking slightly slower. No one had time. No one wanted time. Time was an enemy. Time was running down as the sun got higher and higher. The sun was an accomplice of time and it was looked at in anger. In panic. I looked at it. It was high enough to just peak through the rooftops of the tall buildings. Not skyscrapers, I thought. They weren't tall enough. The sun got through. It was a spear of blinding light piercing through the cool morning air. Scattering a million illuminating shards here and there. Like little fireflies. Wherever they landed, it would be a little brighter. A little happier. I sighed. The woman looked up. I looked down. She looked away. Maybe not happier. My eyes snapped back to the window. I saw a kindergarten school building. Hmmm. Why haven't I seen that before? My gaze wandered over its corners and doors. Over its stones and bricks. Then I realised that I had that I had seen it before. Every single day, since I took the same bus. And every single day, I forgot ever seeing it. Right. It was sad. They had made one of the most optimistic establishments in someone's educational future extremely forgettable. I thought it was tragic. I might have been overreacting, but it was definitely sad. I looked at the school as the bus pulled away. Keeping my eyes on it till I couldn't see it anymore. Hoping to commit it to my memory. Knowing I'd forget about it tomorrow. It angered me. The future should never be forgettable. We wouldn't have anything left.

As I stared out of my window, my mind slightly disturbed, greenish-hazel eyes stood up. She looked at me once. Telling me to kindly stop being strange and to move out of her way. I straightened myself and felt my muscles protest. Looking down at my feet, I stepped back a bit. Giving her room. Giving her authority. She took it. Lifted her chin, waited till the bus came to a complete stop and stalked past me. Relieved, I plopped into the seat she had just vacated.

posted by Arien @ 8:06 am 0 comments

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Entry 2

I took a good look at the house before locking the door behind me. It was a nervous tick of mine. Made sure everything was in place. Made sure I knew the exact location of the few possessions I had. In case someone decided to break in, I would know if anything was taken. I rolled my eyes at my own paranoia and shut the door with a definitive click. Turn key to the left. Lock door. It was almost mechanical, with the most minimal signal being relayed from my brain to my hands. My right hand seemed to be alright. I stared at it again. The fifth time this morning. Wiggle, wiggle. Fingers were moving. I raised my eyebrows skeptically. Hmm. I hoisted my bag on my shoulder and started walking. And here we go again. Walk, bus – bus, walk. Back and forth, forth and back. That was my life now. One step. Two steps. I had been reduced to counting steps. It didn’t seem all that bad when I was counting steps. Concentrate. Don’t miss a beat. Good. Hundred and one steps. Hundred and two steps. And sometimes, it all became so automatic I could even let my mind wander. I looked up at the trees. Green now. With the colours of summer still fresh, like the finishing touches on a brilliant masterpiece. But it wouldn’t last. Summer was ephemeral. Green morphed into orange and red. And yellow. Bright yellow. Yellow was the danger signal. Yellow was deceiving. It paraded under the colours of the sun, as if nothing could touch it. Nothing could harm it. And the more yellow the world became, the colder it would be. The white would be over-powering after the dazzling yellow. I usually loved the white. And the cold. But somehow, this time, I knew it would be bone-chilling. I shivered. A little tremor traveled all the way down to my toes. I looked down at them and slowly buttoned up the light sweater I was wearing. Hundred and forty-seven. Hundred and forty-eight. I kept on walking. The distance between me and the bus-stop got shorter and shorter. My feet ate it up. I gave a little laugh. Funny. Strange. But funny. I sighed. Lately, everything seemed to have a twisted humour behind it. I wasn’t sure if it was healthy to indulge that. Right. Healthy. I laughed again, thinking about health and how ironic it was that I was concerned about mine. It didn’t make any sense. I kept on walking. I suddenly felt very tired. I swept a hand over my eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away my tiredness. I sighed. Deeply. Slowly. Languidly. When I looked up again, I was standing in front of the bus-stop. I had counted two hundred and seventeen steps as the bus rolled in. A rumble. A hiss. The sound of vacuum-sealed doors opening. And I let myself be swallowed into the commuting crowd.

posted by Arien @ 8:42 am 0 comments