The bumps of the road, the uneven gray leather of the seat, Patrick’s singing, and my friends are laughing. These things all make me laugh. The sun is shining through the window and hitting my body, making me warm but not hot. I watch as the scenery goes by, trees, grass, dirt, and houses, nothing special, just the country. Nothing special has happened either, just a couple of band geeks on a bus singing off pitch. And then I realize I’m happy. Happier than I have been in a while, happy on a band bus with the same people that make me sad, and yet I’m not. I look over and see his head on her lap and I feel nothing but sympathy. He will never realize how much he missed, as cheesy as that sounds. And for once, I can finally say, I’m sad for him. I didn’t miss out because I knew him. But one day he might look back and realize it was a mistake, everything was, and by then I will only be able to laugh at how vulnerable and naïve I was. I’m tired of trying and tired of making all the effort. I look again and realize that I don’t care anymore. The sun comes out again and I smile at the warmth that touches me. It suddenly hits me. It’s time to move on.