Chapter 1: Bus Journeys Are Hell
I'm so sick of sitting on buses.
Forget that, I'm sick of standing on them! I can hardly ever sit out of fear that the people around me will glare at me for not giving my seat up for them. It doesn't matter if they're dying, disabled, deaf or completely healthy, these people will glare! Why is that? What did I do to you people to deserve these looks of complete contempt? Nothing! I never do anything; I just sit (stand) and try to look inconspicuous.
Then again, maybe that's the problem…my face. My God my face, I just don't know what to do with it. I think I want to just relax but I can't. And in becoming more and more anxious, my lip starts to twitch and then my eye goes and I feel like everybody's glaring at me because they think I'm some sort of psychopath about to pounce on them, ripping their guts out like some rabid creature. Instead, in trying to relax, I end up looking bored as fuck, gazing out of the windows with probably a look of complete and utter disinterest on my face.
Everybody else probably thinks I'm glaring at them.
Everybody else probably just doesn't care.
Why do I care? Does anybody else? They must right? I'm nothing special. We all know that in the, what is it, 7 billion (?) other people in the world, there must be a couple more like me, like everyone else. You can say Ghandi's different but then you hear about Mother Theresa. You can say your sister's different but then you look at somebody else's. I could say I'm different but I'm so obsessively observant about other people that I probably wouldn't recognise my own traits in someone if they hit me in the face with them…but hey, that's life and, hey, it'll end one day.
Or will it?
That's not the point. Where did I even come from thinking? Buses? About how much I hate being on buses. Yes, everyday, to and from school. Into town and out again: going to the park, going to the shops, going to…a restaurant? I don't know; I don't get out much. The point is, I wish I had a car, even though I know I'd just be too scared to drive it. I wish I had a bike, but I'm too scared to ride it. I wish I had…I have legs. Hmm, I could walk, but then I have to go up that street where all those muggings seem to happen. Yep, the bus with it's claustrophobic, stagnant atmosphere and angry drivers and pushy people will have to do. Man, I hate the people on the bus. Especially mothers, just ugh! Mothers, am I right?
Oh God, it's my stop! What was I even thinking about? Ah whatever, that was actually quite a peaceful journey since I was lost in my own thoughts. Yay.