The Last Trip

I’m listening to Lucy Rose’s Night Bus right now. It’s pouring outside. I guess it’s the first after this summer that the morning’s made gloomy by sad clouds. It’s usually the afternoons.

There’s something contagious about the grayscaled world that gets to me sometimes. It’s always either I would wanna stay in bed all day, binge-watch my favorite show like it’s the best thing ever or I would just wanna stay in bed all day, binge-watch my favorite show like it’s the saddest thing ever.

Right now I feel like neither of them. Lately I feel different. I feel like I’m meeting a very close friend from years ago just to learn that we have nothing in common and we’ve grown apart. I feel detached from myself but the detachment feels familiar. It’s a feeling I haven’t had before but I know exactly what it is.

I read Perks of Being a Wallflower once again. It’s my favorite book of all time. I always find myself confiding to it when things get out of hand or when my head gets messier than usual. I think about this excerpt all the time. Charlie said:

“You see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means you’re happy, too.”

Life keeps giving me reasons to be happy but sometimes I still find myself angry. Maybe it’s normal, that you don’t get to be high all the time, maybe that’s the perfect chemical collision for a perfect functional life, but sometimes things get confusing. All I know is that today I feel like I’m riding Lucy Rose’s Night Bus.

And you see trouble in her eyes
And you’ve noticed, but only realized
It’s not fading, however hard you try
’cause it’s built in her for all her life

And she takes the night bus home
She’s not phased by the darkness in her soul
And you barely catch a glimpse of her
’cause she’s wrapped tightly, hiding in her clothes

I’m not alone
She said “I’m not alone.”
She said “I’m not alone.”

And they’re strangers, and they’re walking my way
and I’m talking to myself

Maybe I’m riding the night bus all my life and it’s time to take off. I don’t know what station this is but I wish I’d never have to convince myself again.



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