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» Stuff I've found
Found...
I've found a lot of things in my life, but recently, I found something most important. I found myself.
This year is my first year at uni. Having a girl back home, I was not exactly social, preferring to think that I was honoring her by secluding myself. The catch was, my schedule was so busy that I had no time to spare to call her, and she resented it. She became more and more angry, not at all like the girl I knew. When I would return for my visits, she would seem ok, but invariably we'd end up arguing.
I knew what I had to do.
But knowing and doing are two different things. Having the same girlfriend for 5 years tends to breed a certain involuntary dependency on said person. I waffled, and agonized over the inevitable decision I would have to make for two weeks. During this time, the changes in our relationship were apparent to everyone. Not knowing how to bring up the subject, I quietly pretended like everything was ok.
Fate, it seems, knew what it was doing. When she and I finally had the chance to be alone, she brought up our relationship, and that her parents felt it would be best if we “took a break” a while. I saw this as my chance, and I told her all of what I was thinking. I have never had strong ties to my hometown, as I've always been a bit cold towards my family thanks to the blatant favoritism they show to my sibling. This girl was my one tie to my home. Sitting there, words began to tumble out, less eloquently and coherently than I would have liked, but they were out.
Silence, followed by her tears tore my heart out. I felt like I could die. I told her I loved her, told her I thought we needed space, and left the door open for the future. But I felt like a part of me had died.
I climbed out of her car, and left. I loved her, I was hurt, but I intended to fix our relationship if I could. My head was full of grandiose ideas of chivalry, and love, and life. And then I realized what I had done. My “security blanket” was gone, and I was alone.
At first, it seemed like hell. I was depressed, and hurt. I felt horrible for hurting her, and I realized that I didn't want to end it like that.
I tried to make amends, I tried to apologize, and I'm not even sure for what I was apologizing. No matter what I did, though, it was thrown in my face. I was hurt, and confused; this was the girl I thought I loved. She has had a hard life, with various men in her life abusing her, so I tried to explain everything she did away, but it still hasn't faded. We agreed at the time of the split to try and get back together over Christmas break, but now I hesitate. I'm not sure if she'll forgive me. Even if she does, I know things will never be the same between us.
After the shock and pain had subsided, I looked at my time, and my life differently. I was alone, but I was happy. Happy that I had no one to answer to, happy that I could spend my time how I chose. She was not a bloodsucker or control freak by any means, but it's amazing how different my life became after all the drama faded away. I can make my own decisions now about how I spend my time without feeling like I was neglecting her.
I can pursue the things that interest me; I can take jobs and internships that pay well. I can use this time to be a little selfish and enjoy my life. I can be free.
I lost something the day of the breakup, but I found something too. I found myself.
*pop*
(Thu 6th Nov 2008, 19:43, More)
Found...
I've found a lot of things in my life, but recently, I found something most important. I found myself.
This year is my first year at uni. Having a girl back home, I was not exactly social, preferring to think that I was honoring her by secluding myself. The catch was, my schedule was so busy that I had no time to spare to call her, and she resented it. She became more and more angry, not at all like the girl I knew. When I would return for my visits, she would seem ok, but invariably we'd end up arguing.
I knew what I had to do.
But knowing and doing are two different things. Having the same girlfriend for 5 years tends to breed a certain involuntary dependency on said person. I waffled, and agonized over the inevitable decision I would have to make for two weeks. During this time, the changes in our relationship were apparent to everyone. Not knowing how to bring up the subject, I quietly pretended like everything was ok.
Fate, it seems, knew what it was doing. When she and I finally had the chance to be alone, she brought up our relationship, and that her parents felt it would be best if we “took a break” a while. I saw this as my chance, and I told her all of what I was thinking. I have never had strong ties to my hometown, as I've always been a bit cold towards my family thanks to the blatant favoritism they show to my sibling. This girl was my one tie to my home. Sitting there, words began to tumble out, less eloquently and coherently than I would have liked, but they were out.
Silence, followed by her tears tore my heart out. I felt like I could die. I told her I loved her, told her I thought we needed space, and left the door open for the future. But I felt like a part of me had died.
I climbed out of her car, and left. I loved her, I was hurt, but I intended to fix our relationship if I could. My head was full of grandiose ideas of chivalry, and love, and life. And then I realized what I had done. My “security blanket” was gone, and I was alone.
At first, it seemed like hell. I was depressed, and hurt. I felt horrible for hurting her, and I realized that I didn't want to end it like that.
I tried to make amends, I tried to apologize, and I'm not even sure for what I was apologizing. No matter what I did, though, it was thrown in my face. I was hurt, and confused; this was the girl I thought I loved. She has had a hard life, with various men in her life abusing her, so I tried to explain everything she did away, but it still hasn't faded. We agreed at the time of the split to try and get back together over Christmas break, but now I hesitate. I'm not sure if she'll forgive me. Even if she does, I know things will never be the same between us.
After the shock and pain had subsided, I looked at my time, and my life differently. I was alone, but I was happy. Happy that I had no one to answer to, happy that I could spend my time how I chose. She was not a bloodsucker or control freak by any means, but it's amazing how different my life became after all the drama faded away. I can make my own decisions now about how I spend my time without feeling like I was neglecting her.
I can pursue the things that interest me; I can take jobs and internships that pay well. I can use this time to be a little selfish and enjoy my life. I can be free.
I lost something the day of the breakup, but I found something too. I found myself.
*pop*
(Thu 6th Nov 2008, 19:43, More)
» Buses
The bus stop at Memory Lane
I waited at a lonely bus stop in the pouring rain. My only protector a streetlight, bearing it's silent vigilance over me, daring the enemies of the night to make their move. I couldn't remember why I was there; I just was. I needed to get out, to make a fresh start somewhere new. All I had with me was what I could carry in my backpack and pockets. I didn't have a plan, I didn't have a reason. I just wanted a fresh start. And still the night drug on.
As I waited in the pouring rain, I began to reflect on the events prior. The disappearance, the note, the empty house... all of it began to weigh on me. Soon it wasn't just rain that soaked me to the bone, but memories and self-pity as well. Why had I ever let her get that close? I knew better than to love someone... I knew better. I renewed my silent vow to never let another that close again. Me, myself, and I, as the old saying went, was all I had now. And still the night drug on.
As I saw the bus lights approaching through the pouring rain, I pulled my jacket tighter. Not that it made a difference – I was dripping wet. As I heard the squeal of brakes and the sound of the bus engine, I looked up and paid homage to my silent guardian. It almost seemed that it blinked once as if to acknowledge my gratitude, but that was most likely wishful thinking on my part, desperate to feel as if someone cared. And still the night drug on.
As the pouring rain spattered on the windshield, I looked closer at my driver. He looked to be a kind old man, and you could see the years of hard living in his face. He asked me how my night had been.
“Fine,” I lied.
“Good to hear,” he replied softly, almost inaudibly. “Where you headed at this late hour?”
“Anywhere away from here, preferably the furthest stop you make.”
“Alright then... What are you running from?” His eyes, no less kind, now pierced through me via the rear-view mirror. It was around this time that I noticed the bus was completely empty, except for myself and the old man.
“If I said my past, I suppose that would sound cliché, but it is my past nonetheless.” I cringed as I said this, knowing it would lead to uncomfortable questions that I wasn't ready to answer..
“It seems you're unwilling to talk about it. I'll let you be. But remember this: there's no-one in the world worth your personal happiness. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I paused for a minute. This was an odd bit of advice from a stranger, and yet he was dead on in his implied assessment. “Sounds like you've gone through much the same thing I have,” I ventured.
“That depends,” he said with a rueful smile playing on his lips, “have you been betrayed by those you love most? By the ones that pretended to care?”
“Actually, yes,” I began, “that's exactly it.”
“I know, son. I know.”
This threw me for a bit of a loop – What did he mean? How did he know? “How did you know, sir?” It was apparent by this point that this gentleman deserved my utmost respect, if for no other reason than he respected me.
“Well, son, that's an easy one. It's because I'm you. Or I was, at one point.”
“Wha-?” I interrupted, confused as I could possibly be.
“You see,” the man began, “this isn't just a bus. It's a door that opens only to those who have reached the bottom. Those who run just to keep themselves alive. Those who don't have any reason to stay alive. And even those who don't want a reason to stay alive. Fact is, everyone hits this point in their life. Everyone. For some, it takes more than others, but sure enough everyone does. And a curious thing – it's not always something we bring upon ourselves. I'd wager that you were one of those... Am I right?”
“Y-yeah,” I said shakily. I was beginning to get weirded out.
“So tell me, if you're comfortable with it; what's your story?”
“Well,” I began, “there was this girl-”
“That's how most of these stories begin.” the old man said flatly.
“Anyway,” I continued “I loved her. She was smart, attractive, funny, and above all else, she loved me when no one else would. My parents died when I was young, I never knew my sister, and I've honestly felt cold and detached all my life; almost as if I were an outside observer.”
“And this girl... she changed that, eh?” he said this with a smile, almost as if he had heard the story before.
“Exactly. For the first time, I was able to feel... human. I missed her as soon as she left the room. I began to see the world in color instead of shades of gray. Each day we grew closer. I depended on her, she was almost a part of me.”
“And that's when disaster struck.” he suggested.
“Precisely,” I said. “I was away on business for one week. One. It was my first trip with the company, and my last. I waited for her to pick me up at the airport, and she never came. I called, no answer. I eventually caught a cab and made my way home. As I stepped into the room we had shared for 3 years, I noticed the note hung on the mirror. She had left no way to contact her, and no explanation. Simply a short 'it's been fun, but it's time to move on,' and she was gone forever. I went into a tailspin. I quit my job, I couldn't bring myself to care about it. I sold my house, and I sold my belongings. I packed this backpack here with a change of clothes and my laptop and set out for a fresh start. And that's when we met.”
“Son,” he began, “you know that you can't outrun the memories, and you can't bury them. You have to heal. The only advice I can offer is to remember that no matter what happened, you're still you, and you're still alive. No one can take that away from you. Whatever makes you happy, find it and do it and the healing will come in time. Good luck, son.”
“Good luck? But this isn't my st-”
With a tremendous crash, the bus plummeted off the road and down and embankment. The last thing I remember was the old man apologizing, and then everything went black. And still the night drug on.
I woke to the hum of machinery and bright lights. The beeping of the monitor at my bedside let me know my heart was indeed still beating. I began to call for the nurse.
“What is it, honey?” she asked.
“What happened?”
“I'd better get the doctor,” she said, “he can explain it much better than I can.”
As I waited on the doctor to get to my room, I looked out the window and noticed the sun was shining brightly on the autumn leaves. Brilliant colors stood out in stark contrast to the deep blue sky. I smiled to myself. It was beautiful.
“So how do you feel, son?” the doctor asked. As he walked in, I recognized him immediately. It was the bus driver.
“B-but... you're the b-bus driver?” I was seriously confused at this point.
“Bus driver? Of course not!” he said with a wink. “Anyway, about your condition... you were in an accident 3 months ago, not too far from here. You only had superficial cuts and bruises, but you slipped into a coma shortly after arriving here. I'm not sure why, but we just couldn't wake you.”
“Oh... Wow, I had no idea.”
“Comatose patients usually don't,” he said with a grin, “but now that you're awake and healed, you can go anytime you wish.”
“Alright then,” I replied, “I think I'm ready now. Is my bag still here?”
“Oh yes,” he said, “we've taken good care of it. Let me get you a wheelchair and we'll see you off.”
“Actually Doc, that won't be necessary. I'll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” he smiled.
The doctor helped me stand to my feet and walk down the stairs to the front door. As the automatic doors slid aside and the sunlight hit my face, the doctor handed me my bag and a pair of sunglasses.
“Do you have someone coming to pick you up?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “but I think I'll catch the bus.”
The doctor merely shrugged and rolled his eyes. I thanked him once more and began the walk to the bus stop. As I sat on the bench and waited on the next bus, I smiled to myself. The night was over.
Apologies for length. Short story criticism encouraged and welcome.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 21:23, More)
The bus stop at Memory Lane
I waited at a lonely bus stop in the pouring rain. My only protector a streetlight, bearing it's silent vigilance over me, daring the enemies of the night to make their move. I couldn't remember why I was there; I just was. I needed to get out, to make a fresh start somewhere new. All I had with me was what I could carry in my backpack and pockets. I didn't have a plan, I didn't have a reason. I just wanted a fresh start. And still the night drug on.
As I waited in the pouring rain, I began to reflect on the events prior. The disappearance, the note, the empty house... all of it began to weigh on me. Soon it wasn't just rain that soaked me to the bone, but memories and self-pity as well. Why had I ever let her get that close? I knew better than to love someone... I knew better. I renewed my silent vow to never let another that close again. Me, myself, and I, as the old saying went, was all I had now. And still the night drug on.
As I saw the bus lights approaching through the pouring rain, I pulled my jacket tighter. Not that it made a difference – I was dripping wet. As I heard the squeal of brakes and the sound of the bus engine, I looked up and paid homage to my silent guardian. It almost seemed that it blinked once as if to acknowledge my gratitude, but that was most likely wishful thinking on my part, desperate to feel as if someone cared. And still the night drug on.
As the pouring rain spattered on the windshield, I looked closer at my driver. He looked to be a kind old man, and you could see the years of hard living in his face. He asked me how my night had been.
“Fine,” I lied.
“Good to hear,” he replied softly, almost inaudibly. “Where you headed at this late hour?”
“Anywhere away from here, preferably the furthest stop you make.”
“Alright then... What are you running from?” His eyes, no less kind, now pierced through me via the rear-view mirror. It was around this time that I noticed the bus was completely empty, except for myself and the old man.
“If I said my past, I suppose that would sound cliché, but it is my past nonetheless.” I cringed as I said this, knowing it would lead to uncomfortable questions that I wasn't ready to answer..
“It seems you're unwilling to talk about it. I'll let you be. But remember this: there's no-one in the world worth your personal happiness. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I paused for a minute. This was an odd bit of advice from a stranger, and yet he was dead on in his implied assessment. “Sounds like you've gone through much the same thing I have,” I ventured.
“That depends,” he said with a rueful smile playing on his lips, “have you been betrayed by those you love most? By the ones that pretended to care?”
“Actually, yes,” I began, “that's exactly it.”
“I know, son. I know.”
This threw me for a bit of a loop – What did he mean? How did he know? “How did you know, sir?” It was apparent by this point that this gentleman deserved my utmost respect, if for no other reason than he respected me.
“Well, son, that's an easy one. It's because I'm you. Or I was, at one point.”
“Wha-?” I interrupted, confused as I could possibly be.
“You see,” the man began, “this isn't just a bus. It's a door that opens only to those who have reached the bottom. Those who run just to keep themselves alive. Those who don't have any reason to stay alive. And even those who don't want a reason to stay alive. Fact is, everyone hits this point in their life. Everyone. For some, it takes more than others, but sure enough everyone does. And a curious thing – it's not always something we bring upon ourselves. I'd wager that you were one of those... Am I right?”
“Y-yeah,” I said shakily. I was beginning to get weirded out.
“So tell me, if you're comfortable with it; what's your story?”
“Well,” I began, “there was this girl-”
“That's how most of these stories begin.” the old man said flatly.
“Anyway,” I continued “I loved her. She was smart, attractive, funny, and above all else, she loved me when no one else would. My parents died when I was young, I never knew my sister, and I've honestly felt cold and detached all my life; almost as if I were an outside observer.”
“And this girl... she changed that, eh?” he said this with a smile, almost as if he had heard the story before.
“Exactly. For the first time, I was able to feel... human. I missed her as soon as she left the room. I began to see the world in color instead of shades of gray. Each day we grew closer. I depended on her, she was almost a part of me.”
“And that's when disaster struck.” he suggested.
“Precisely,” I said. “I was away on business for one week. One. It was my first trip with the company, and my last. I waited for her to pick me up at the airport, and she never came. I called, no answer. I eventually caught a cab and made my way home. As I stepped into the room we had shared for 3 years, I noticed the note hung on the mirror. She had left no way to contact her, and no explanation. Simply a short 'it's been fun, but it's time to move on,' and she was gone forever. I went into a tailspin. I quit my job, I couldn't bring myself to care about it. I sold my house, and I sold my belongings. I packed this backpack here with a change of clothes and my laptop and set out for a fresh start. And that's when we met.”
“Son,” he began, “you know that you can't outrun the memories, and you can't bury them. You have to heal. The only advice I can offer is to remember that no matter what happened, you're still you, and you're still alive. No one can take that away from you. Whatever makes you happy, find it and do it and the healing will come in time. Good luck, son.”
“Good luck? But this isn't my st-”
With a tremendous crash, the bus plummeted off the road and down and embankment. The last thing I remember was the old man apologizing, and then everything went black. And still the night drug on.
I woke to the hum of machinery and bright lights. The beeping of the monitor at my bedside let me know my heart was indeed still beating. I began to call for the nurse.
“What is it, honey?” she asked.
“What happened?”
“I'd better get the doctor,” she said, “he can explain it much better than I can.”
As I waited on the doctor to get to my room, I looked out the window and noticed the sun was shining brightly on the autumn leaves. Brilliant colors stood out in stark contrast to the deep blue sky. I smiled to myself. It was beautiful.
“So how do you feel, son?” the doctor asked. As he walked in, I recognized him immediately. It was the bus driver.
“B-but... you're the b-bus driver?” I was seriously confused at this point.
“Bus driver? Of course not!” he said with a wink. “Anyway, about your condition... you were in an accident 3 months ago, not too far from here. You only had superficial cuts and bruises, but you slipped into a coma shortly after arriving here. I'm not sure why, but we just couldn't wake you.”
“Oh... Wow, I had no idea.”
“Comatose patients usually don't,” he said with a grin, “but now that you're awake and healed, you can go anytime you wish.”
“Alright then,” I replied, “I think I'm ready now. Is my bag still here?”
“Oh yes,” he said, “we've taken good care of it. Let me get you a wheelchair and we'll see you off.”
“Actually Doc, that won't be necessary. I'll walk.”
“Suit yourself,” he smiled.
The doctor helped me stand to my feet and walk down the stairs to the front door. As the automatic doors slid aside and the sunlight hit my face, the doctor handed me my bag and a pair of sunglasses.
“Do you have someone coming to pick you up?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “but I think I'll catch the bus.”
The doctor merely shrugged and rolled his eyes. I thanked him once more and began the walk to the bus stop. As I sat on the bench and waited on the next bus, I smiled to myself. The night was over.
Apologies for length. Short story criticism encouraged and welcome.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 21:23, More)
» Tramps
So there I was...
In Underground Atlanta with some mates. We were having a great time hanging out, people watching, looking at various over-priced shit, the works. Well, as you see in these places, there were beggars. Not many, mind you, but a few. I have a strict policy never to give these kind of people money, though I do try to help them how I can. So when a nice woman approached me in her torn clothes saying she was thirsty, who was I to refuse? I took her to the nearby smoothie shop and bought her a fruit smoothie.
She was so overcome with gratitude that she planted a big kiss on my cheek, and walked away. As she left, I watched to see if she really wanted the smoothie, or just was looking for cash. Turns out, she did what I expected: she dumped the smoothie in the trash. Then she did something I didn't expect. She removed "her" wig and turned around. I had just been kissed by a tranny.
(Tue 7th Jul 2009, 4:16, More)
So there I was...
In Underground Atlanta with some mates. We were having a great time hanging out, people watching, looking at various over-priced shit, the works. Well, as you see in these places, there were beggars. Not many, mind you, but a few. I have a strict policy never to give these kind of people money, though I do try to help them how I can. So when a nice woman approached me in her torn clothes saying she was thirsty, who was I to refuse? I took her to the nearby smoothie shop and bought her a fruit smoothie.
She was so overcome with gratitude that she planted a big kiss on my cheek, and walked away. As she left, I watched to see if she really wanted the smoothie, or just was looking for cash. Turns out, she did what I expected: she dumped the smoothie in the trash. Then she did something I didn't expect. She removed "her" wig and turned around. I had just been kissed by a tranny.
(Tue 7th Jul 2009, 4:16, More)
» Buses
School Bus
One time, when I was a kid, we had this awesome school bus that we rode on for field trips.
One time, we went to all the planets of the solar system, and another, we saw dinosaurs.
My favorite though, was when we went to the bottom of the ocean floor.
I loved the Magic School Bus.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 22:08, More)
School Bus
One time, when I was a kid, we had this awesome school bus that we rode on for field trips.
One time, we went to all the planets of the solar system, and another, we saw dinosaurs.
My favorite though, was when we went to the bottom of the ocean floor.
I loved the Magic School Bus.
(Thu 25th Jun 2009, 22:08, More)