There’s been a lot going on lately.
Changes and challenges and worries.
Tests coming up and tests taken that still haunt me.
I’m not always so wise in the “relationship” department. Or compartment.
I make mistakes. Quite a bit actually. And I can’t help but think I should be making less of the same ones. I cant help but think I should be less young.
Maybe I grew up too fast. Or in some ways not fast enough.
But that is the story of our lives I suppose. Either too far ahead or too far behind.
I read a quote once. Something about a limo and a bus and breaking down on the side of the road. I can’t remember what it was about exactly, but lying in bed late at night got me thinking. The events of the day rushing back. The events of the week….the events of the month…the events of the year.
And I thought back to when I was younger, smaller in so many ways. Smaller in experience, but larger in spirit. Someone happy. Someone who bayed at the moon just cause, after all, that’s what the animals do when they’re happy (and no one judges them on their singing talents). Someone who didn’t have a care in the world except what was for breakfast and if she was going to pass some test I wish I was doing now. Someone who didn’t know the hurt and the other ugly things I know now. Someone who thought there was a happy ending for everyone, and that that happy ending would be the first person I met. The first person that I kissed or loved or trusted.
Now I’m smaller in other ways. I’m bigger on the outside and smaller on the inside. Hiding from something that I don’t even know the name of. Maybe love. Maybe hurt. But I’m honest enough to know that some days I just don’t know what.
I wonder who I would have been if I never would have met him. If I never would have burnt out my flame on him fighting so hard for his love. For a false love. Would I still be as naive as I was, untainted and free? Or would I have still walked this path to where I am now, just without him?
What’s left of me now? A withered flame today. Tired and alone in a shallow room, straining my eyes in searching. Searching for a flame like mine. My eyes are tired. There’s too much too look at sometimes in life. Too many things going on that we forget to look. I’m just busy trying to keep my flame alive.
Some days I’m better; learning to burn bright again, to be me again. By accident, but then I guess I was always “me” by accident. Is there any other way of inventing “me”?
So, in thinking about this limo quote and the events leading to my place in life (after I was done being depressing), I came to something inside myself. It was that moment that you get on a lazy afternoon, dozing just as the sun turns the room gold. How magical that moment is, how transcendent. It’s a rare moment. Something in you breaks, but in breaking it flowers as if your heart were a seed that suddenly felt its time come. It was that moment of knowing. Just knowing. As if the universe came and whispered a secret in your ear and you knew it was right. You knew it was right so strongly that it didn’t surprise you. A known surprise, like a precious trinket you hid away and suddenly discover years later.
The moon shone down, a bright full face soon to be smiling as it wanes away, and as I looked up I felt it. That strong breeze of spirit.
I’ve been riding in limos. Limos come and go, a different one every time. They come just for a moment, night or day. You ride, you pay and you leave, off to some event that is far more important than the limo. The limo is an afterthought. They limo is a tool. But the limo wasn’t important. You could have easily taken a cab or driven yourself. You could have taken the metro or flown or rowed a boat. The limo doesn’t take you on a journey, it just holes you up for a little while, blocking you from the outside world with its tinted windows and its reclined seating. It’s the same with people. People love “limos”. They’re easy, no commitment to self or thought. Each night a different one. They look nice and might feed you in some way or another, providing you with drinks that encourage things to happen.
And then there’s the bus. Now, we’re not talking some dirty old bus like you might get on while riding gloomily to work. No. We’re working in the metaphorical here. Try and keep up. So, nice bus. You have to wait for the bus, yes. But you meet some great people on the bus. It’s hard waiting for the bus. You get bored cause you know it’s coming sometime soon but it can seem like an eternity for your exact bus to arrive. You try to distract yourself with things to do while you wait. You stand lookout. The bus will arrive, but it’ll arrive when it’s time. You could get rained on, you may want to give up, but the bus will come if you’re patient. Sure, it’d be easier to call a limo to come pick you up. But maybe the limo just isn’t better. How much fun is it to ride a bus with someone you really enjoy speaking with? Someone who’s just happy to be there with you? Just cause you’re there? You waited for that darn slow bus, but it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? To feel the warmth and joy of speaking to someone who listens and understands? To fall asleep on the shoulder of someone you love, letting the jostling of the tires rock you and the dull roar of the engine be your lullaby. To fall asleep, someone sweetly stroking your hair, heartbeats in time?
Great things happen in the backs of limos. Rappers have parties. Girls in dresses too short drink champagne. Old men smoke with women their granddaughter’s age sitting on their laps. Singers sing, dancers dance. People stick their heads out of the sunroof. And that’s all very exciting.
But if I’m honest, despite how everyone looks at me like I might have a head injury when I say it, I like the bus better. I want that closeness, that roar of the engine, that hand pressed against mine, quiet and watching the shops and people go by while we listen to music. There’s something so exciting about the feel of “the bus”; of an adventure beginning and excitement waiting at the next stop. Feeling like I am safe and can gently step off into a new story and discover new things whenever I please. I know the bus will always be there. Limos can be booked and not have time to pick you up. But the bus is just there.
If I’m honest. I just want to ride the bus.
I’m tired of limos. I’m tired of picking up and dropping off and never looking back to see if I’m okay. I’m tired of a new driver who just doesn’t care about me. I’m just today’s ticket. I’m a fix.
I’m just tired.
I’m tired of faking that I like limos and that they’re just “so amazing”. I’m tired of pretending like I’m the same as everyone else.
It’s so very obvious I’m not. I’m the tiger pretending I’m a duck. I’m like a rose poking out of a petunia patch. It’s just not going to work and I’m tired of quacking. I’m not who I keep trying to be despite the fact it goes adverse to who I am. Maybe I’m just looking for love, or intimacy, but I can’t keep on like this. Each thing must be what it is and follow its nature. A cloud may wish to be a tree but it can’t. It’s a cloud. It was meant to float and make shapes and rain. That’s its nature. That’s what it does, and to go against that nature will only bring misery.
Now, I just have to learn to wait. Wait for the bus to come. Wait for what I really want to get here.
I don’t know how well I’ll do at first. The limos are tempting. But if i can manage to be patient I won’t miss my bus and have to wait longer. I’ll simply get on and start my new adventure.
I’m not a duck, or a tree, or a petunia. I’m just me. And I need to be truer to me.
The time to start is now.