What's a seagull screaming on an inland lake?
I am feeling sick on the bus back to V. It's 9:10 pm into the night without much light on the highway. The rain is not visible to me and only reminded by the twitching of the rain scrapers. I turn to my right, avoiding putting more pressure on my stomach and eye contact with the window.
I have been on this bus since 6 this afternoon. I was only happy to hide from the rain in this artificial warmth and didn't care enough to think further onto the road. I caught the last sight of the dusk when the bus crossed the bridge. A sudden burn stirred up in my stomach. It's an anxiety, an anticipation, an un-named desire. I was attacked by the worry that I might have left something behind. My hands felt empty, my shoulders felt light. My body shivered to the rhymes of the vehicle, and my eyes were taken by the darkness of the night.
I woke up with my face to the window on my left, but I couldn't focus my gaze. I could only tell the edge of the road from the cliff behind with the sidelight from the bus. The rest is just darkness - darkness beyond searching. I knew it was mountains, woods, rivers, and homes to someone. But I feared the height, let alone in the darkness that takes my understandings away. I feared to look more as if I were to be drawn into the abyss. Someone near turned on the reading lamp, and a reflection appeared on the pane. It took the shape of me with the face of the abyss. I was confused, couldn't tell anything apart - my fear, my silence, my face, my abyss from the fear, the silence, the face, the abyss. A drop of tear ran down my cheek unexpectedly. The light was switched off by someone dear and let go off my shadows. I was returned to the peace hanging on a string.
Last night I sprang my ankle and bruised my knees when I was running through a green light. I slipped. Every time I stretched my legs and feet, I could feel the minor pain squeezed out of my joints. This ride will take 6 hours, and I start to feel sore from my tailbones. I turn to my left again despite my stomachache. I am tied to the seat by the belt, can only stretch like a bird caught in a net. I can hear my bones are screaming with this quiet crackings. I wanted to fly, but I twisted my wings. I was stranded on the inland lake.
As the bus leaves the mountains, the rain picks up its dominance. I can see it leaving traces on the window without any light. It hits like bullets. The bus murmurs in consistent hemming. The seat is set to an unhumanly realistic angle. My body is reminded by all the bearable sufferings. I have to turn around from time to time, seeking the permanent comfort that doesn't last 6 minutes.
But I don't mind the journey through the land, through the rain, through the darkness, through my fear and confusion. This night, I've crawled ten thousand miles behind.