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Bus Stop

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I have been sitting here for awhile. My bus still has not arrived. I’m not sure if I want it to come. My head feels heavy and I feel tired. But, I do not want to sleep. The person next to me is reading a paper. I wonder what kind of news is in it. Knowing this world, nothing good. This small glass box feels hot, but inside I feel cold. Distant. I do not feel anything anymore. Sadness overcomes me and even the pretty flowers in the small flower bed seem dull to me. Gray. I feel empty and dazed. Some would call it hunger. That makes sense. I have not eaten since it happened, but I am not hungry. I handle the small wooden cross they had given me. I begin crying. It is all I have left. This world is not fair. Everything you care about will eventually be taken away. The next life will be better hopefully. The sun is shining. I hate it. How can the world go on and be happy when something so horrific has just disrupted it? I see small children playing in the playground across the street. They are laughing. I do not dislike them for it. They deserve to laugh, play and run. If only I could go back, and see him laugh, play and run with them. What I would give to see that one more time. I hope they have a chance to be children. He never did. My bus has just arrived and I decide to get on. I pay the driver my dollar. He asks, “Where are you going?” Where am I going? “Anywhere.” I answer. I sit down and ride. Ride to another place. Away from what I have known.




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DoubleAnnieAugusta said...
Jan. 28, 2011 at 4:06 pm:
nice job, ive been hoping u would write some more:) keep it up!
 
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