on the bus

it's easy to assess your life on an irritatingly crowded bus, with an old favorite song drowning out the noise and an ipod in hand.

summer's over, just like that. gone. with a sign on it's door saying "be back next year".

it was a packed summer. slacking in april, driving in may, 80 hours of CSP in june, work the whole of july (and more). so neat, so easy to categorize. so very convenient should anyone ask how it all was for me.

so apparently fulfilled.

yet every morning and every evening when i get on the bus, ipod blasting and without a worry about my worries, i never actually sink into sighs of fulfillment as memories of summer float by me.

i'm tired. i'm still not happy with things. worst of all, i'm seriously unhappy.

to be both not happy (i.e. satisfied) as well as unhappy (i.e. miserable) is not exactly the prettiest of situations. euphermeral joys i have, i mean, i really love the kids. but beyond that, when i examine my life.. things aren't great. summer wasn't great. i'm not sure if it could have been better, but it definitely was not a perfect version of what it already has come to be.

gosh. the way i just sit on the bus and wonder how it all turned out this way. and to know all the answers yet continue asking why. until now it's so hard to accept that i can't even find it within me to cry. it's like it never happened.

but has.

"You thought I loved you..." A tear rolls down her wet cheek.

He realizes he's crying too. He wants to say he's sorry. But the door shuts behind her final words.

"I can't believe I did."