An exercise in stream-of-consciousness writing while taking a Megabus from London to Bristol
**September 24th, 2010**
I'm on Megabus right now, headed to Bristol. I've been chewing on the same piece of peppermint Orbit gum for at least an hour now. It's starting to feel sharp and bitter inside my mouth. When did I start chewing primarily on my left side? My boots kind of pinch my toes, but they're better for walking in the rain than my flimsy Primark flats. I'm in an extremely creative mood today. It's probably my mind's self-defense mechanism for avoiding thinking about the inevitable awkwardness that's to come. The further we speed along down the road, the heavier my chest and stomach feels. Although that could be the leftover tuna-zucchini-cheese-tomato pasta I had for breakfast.
It's been over three years now. Time heals all wounds, right? Let's hope so.
My legs are too long for the limited seating space, but at least I have a whole row to myself. I often wonder what people around me are thinking. Not necessarily if they're passing any thoughts on me, but just curious about how different everyone's inner monologues are. Do people talk to themselves in the third person? Or are there songs constantly playing in the background? Or are they thinking about food and sex? Reminiscing on nostalgic moments? Trying to surpress negative thoughts? Carefully filtering their true thoughts from the words that actually escape their lips, like a whale filters food from ocean water? I just caught the eye of a girl sitting in front of me, as she adjusted in her seat. A moment so brief and meaningless, it will soon be forgotten.
Being on the left side of the road now only feels weird at night. My eyes are not used to the mirror image of white and red lights. It hurts, slightly, but it doesn't mean it's wrong. It's just something to get used to. This is the first time in a very long time that I've allowed myself to run with my thoughts, without burying them with stupid reality shows or movies online. It's too easy and comfortable to ignore the mind, to push away thoughts, to avoid making decisions because they're too hard to face. And so the days roll by, the months change, the lines between different weeks become blurred.
I find comfort in the fact that we're all lost right now, not having a fucking (that's for emphasis, not anger!) clue what we'll be doing in a week's, month's, or year's time. Not even knowing where we'll be living, or if we'll be working. It's only a bad thing if/when the money runs out. I love having money, but I hate money. It can turn people into monsters. It can be worse on a relationship than infidelity. People become obsessed with it, and lose sight of the things that really matter in life. Like connections with other human beings. Because, really, the connections that we make are what make life worth living. "All you need is love." "If you've lost your faith in love and music, the end won't be long." Too true. I haven't lost mine. I may be lost in life right now, sailing along without a specific final destination in mind, but the experiences that I've had over the past year have been incredible. The new places I've been to, the new skills I've learned, and, most importantly, the new people that have come into my life. I believe there's a reason why everything's played out the way it has, and I feel that even better things are about to happen. It's all bubbling under the surface, ready to erupt. And, finally, the puzzle will start to make sense. Form the edges first, then fill in the rest.