Day 9604. Yesterday doesn’t exist anymore. Today won’t exist tomorrow. Now spends more time being then. Time is in constant decay. Shit.
Work. I need to get to work. It will distract me. Spending my finite time doing menial tasks will distract me from the fact my time is finite. Working is important. Everyone thinks it’s important. I have to hurry up and get to work.
I hate running, I look stupid when I run, I’m not fit enough to run, I’ve got a stitch. I’ll just get the bus. I can’t run all the way to work – that was a stupid idea. My side is killing me. Pain and discomfort won’t exist one day. Nothing will. I can feel my body, all the discomfort its needs cause it. One day it’ll be gone; no body, no needs, no experience. Nothing.
Oblivion is coming, there’s no stopping it. At least I won’t realise it. I won’t know. I won’t feel. Nothing. That’s the problem, there’s the rub. Even the Immortal Bard is oblivious. For regardless of how many lines I read, the life I give isn’t experienced by anyone other than me. Shakespeare is gone. Wilde, Byron, Socrates, Shelley; the greats are gone so why wouldn’t I be going? Fuck, no. Oh help, no, no, no, no, no. Help me, I need help. No one can help, we are all powerless. I can’t breathe. Calm down. I need to calm down. For work. I need to get to work – it’s important.
God someone’s going to notice I keep having to pull my dress down. It’s like that stand up I watched. Can’t remember who. I’m one of those girls wearing something too short, making an arse of myself adjusting my outfit. Everyone at the bus stop is looking at me. They think I’m a tart. I’ll stop walking just to the side of the bus stop, away from them. I’ll not need to talk to anyone that way.
I feel quite pretty today. I like showing off my legs, I hope people notice how nice they are. He’s looking at me I think. He’s quite hot, I quite like a beard. Shit, look away, I’m not flirting or anything. God. There’s nothing wrong with looking. Bet everyone here thinks I’m a slag. Staring at random guys, wearing a short dress, constantly pulling it down to cover my arse. It’s hot though. This outfit is keeping me cool. I’d be too hot in tights or trousers. This is my only clean black dress, I never chose it for attention. I need to wear black to work. I’ve got a boyfriend, I was just looking in that direction, and I don’t need other people to approve of how I look. I have someone who loves me. And it’s not like I’d cheat on him with some bearded, homeless looking, twat at the bus stop. Standing there laughing down the phone with his, ‘I was so fucking wasted I attempted to put Buckfast in the decanter,’ oxymoron.
This bus driver is so nice, his face is just so friendly. A smile really can go a long way. And I love it when they make a, ‘you sure you’re not a half’, joke. I’m flattered. It’s so nice to be complimented. People can be really good sometimes. There must be more to this. Goodness can’t be for nothing, people caring shouldn’t be pointless. Not like this world has ever cared about what is fair or anything that has a point right enough.
Uck I hate people like her. Just total scum. I hope she doesn’t notice me looking – she’s the type to start a fight over eye contact. Oh jeez she’s giving the, ‘I’m working hard to get my kid back’ speech. Oh sure, you’re an amazing parent. You go to a contact centre twice a week? Really? That’s a lot of work. Your kid must be so pleased that you stay off the drink for two hours twice a week. I can’t believe people actually have the front to talk about things like this in public. With fucking pride as well. Yeah People disgust me. She disgusts me. That nasty screwed up face. Skin stretched and stuffed with gluttony. All she’s managed in life is to take up more physical space than she should, well that and bring in another life to be ruined. Poor kid, it’s horrifying to think of what her life must be like.
I’m equal to her, equal all of them. Everyone on this bus. Every other human ever to exist and that ever will exist. How can there be eternity for us? We’re no better than rats, crawling over each other, breeding, consuming. We’re simply a species, individuals don’t matter – I don’t matter.
God I hate bagpipes. Even played well they sound like shit. It should be illegal to induce headaches. Damn old people encouraging it. If you give him money he will keep doing it! They know this, they just want the rest of us to suffer. Look at them all; shuffling along in a silver sea of liver spots to the sound of the bagpipes. If I wasn’t already depressed, I definitely would be now.
It’s scary to think that I’ll be old one day. And that’s if I’m lucky. I wonder if I’ll be comforted by the long life stretched out behind me, or terrified by the nothing in front of me. This is their present and they’re old now, I don’t think it matters how long you’ve lived. We only exist in the moment and in this moment they are old, and frail, and hurdling even closer towards death. My memories are a blurred, jumbled mess that took 9604 days to make, but feel like nothing. In another 9604 days it’ll feel the same only with less days left. There’s no comfort in old age.