Wicked!

India

ENFP-T

Daydreaming and procrastinating more than is healthy.

Writer's block and sleep deprivation are my constant companions.

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Message from Writer

"People are not to be blamed for their doubts, but that they make no effort to arrive at the truth."
—W.H. Davies

~

the contrarian's "Resources to Support the BLM Movement": https://bit.ly/2Mpmaui

outoftheblue's piece on police brutality in India: https://bit.ly/3dBxv5r

~

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Reviews are greatly appreciated, but if they don't offer any criticism, they're not much use.

The Back of the Bus

July 21, 2020


L,

Hey. How are you? (Don't tell me you're fine if you truly aren't.) It's been a year and a half since we last spoke, though it feels like a lot more. How has life been? (I hope that it's been nothing but kind and happy.)

Remember those promises and often outright threats of keeping in touch we made to each other? They must be laughing at us right now, sitting where we stowed them in the backs of our minds. Time itself must be laughing at us right now. We really thought we'd circumvent its manoeuvres, didn't we? And yet here we are, clueless about what's happening in each others' lives, as distant as we could be. You must've changed so much. I certainly did. A year and a half is a pretty long time if you go to a new place and meet new people and realise that you really didn't know so much about the big bad world after all. So I know you must've changed, though I do hope that you didn't lose your puckish sense of humour and your ability to make anyone laugh.

Sometimes I read the farewell note you wrote for me. Not that I don't remember everything you wrote in it. Yeah, I've read it loads of times. I just really miss our school and all you people. This school being incredibly unpleasant helps too. You'd know all about that though. All of the times you told me about your sister being in this school, I could never have thought that one day I'd end up here too. That time you told me that they have a sleepover at her school, I could never have imagined that two years later, I'd be having that sleepover too. In the bus here, they sometimes talk about your sister. It's strange—I've never met her, but it feels like I've known her for so long, first hearing about her from you, and now from her friends here. The coin really flipped, huh? But that's life—you never know where it'll throw you.

Your farewell note though—it's incredible, how much I had to pester you for writing it. I wanted one from every friend before passing out of school and there was absolutely no way I could've let you get away with not writing one. It's ironic—I had to legitimately plead and threaten you to write one, but yours is perhaps the best I got—even better than the enormously long ones that my closest friends wrote—and it's the one that still makes me cry the most. It's hilarious—and I'd have been very surprised if it weren't—but what honestly shocked me was how emotional it was. I remember how I'd started crying before I'd even finished reading it that day, and how you'd told everyone else to just let me cry when I tried to hide my teary face. I don't think I ever got to tell you this, but I really appreciated that. 

I just miss it all so much—all the stupid things we used to do, everything we used to talk about. Sometimes I just think about it all. The countless times we talked about the impending apocalypse and what we'd do when we finally found ourselves in the midst of it. (I really hope that it's not zombies, by the way. I don't think I'd be fit enough for all the running that would entail.) The numerous lessons about the female anatomy I taught you guys; your reaction when I told you about periods ("Oh, blood out of your—oh, you girls are brave"). Our endless fandom talks, of magical schools and dystopian societies. The way our stomachs ached and our cheeks hurt because we laughed way too much, for way too long. The bus conductor! Boy, was she a mean lady. But I regret getting into so many arguments with her, you know. I mean, she did complain to your parents about you catcalling girls outside when all you used to do was shout random things at strangers and she did talk to other girls in the bus about B and I being naive and unsophisticated to be the only girls sitting with a bunch of boys at the back of the bus, but I think that I was too rude to her.

The intention while thinking of all of this is to help it cheer me up, but mostly I just end up crying. Crying, because I know that it's all over, that we can never again be the kids sitting at the back of the bus, talking about gullible teachers, difficult exams, good music, Hollywood movies, dystopian novels and everything else we used to talk about. All that's left of it all is just memories in some obscure part of our brains.

I wonder if those little kids in the bus who waved to us whenever they saw us still remember us. What do they remember us as? The seniors who always fought with the conductor? The seniors who created a ruckus all the time, laughing and shouting and cursing too loudly? The cool kids who sat at the back of the bus, at the very last seat, not knowing that we were actually just a bunch of nerds who tried to be as good at studies as we were at remembering song lyrics?

Maybe someday we'll all go back to school together, sit on that last seat in the bus, just the way we used to, and talk about the joys of having friends as crazy as yourself. Maybe someday we'll sit down together, talking and laughing and crying over those days. Maybe someday we'll talk to other people about the time when we were but stupid teenagers who didn't fear the uncertainty of the road ahead. I'll remember you when I do that.

Until then, I'll just miss you, and wish that the next time we meet, it's not as strangers. I hope that's not too much to wish for.

Love,
M
 

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4 Comments
  • outoftheblue

    "Until then, I'll just miss you, and wish that the next time we meet, it's not as strangers. I hope that's not too much to wish for." ahh dude, this is so beautifully written! and i can oddly relate, in this personal way ? like being the seniors at the back of the bus and arguing with bus conductor and stupid jokes and endless banter. i'm not even that old but i really do miss that sm and god i can't believe i only just found this


    about 2 months ago
  • And_The_Stars_Laughed

    Wow, this was so heartfelt and beautiful, I...I don't even know what to say. I actually teared up a bit while reading it because it reminded me of one of my close friends when I was younger. I love this so much -- it's exactly what I needed to read today. Incredible job!! And, best of luck in the competition! :)


    3 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    Wow... you write so beautifully yet managing to keep the balance so it's not romanticized into oblivion...


    3 months ago
  • Dmoral

    awwwwwww


    3 months ago