Everyone around me sits in silence, but they all fidgit and sometimes whisper to their neighbor. I can't move. I stare out the window at the streets passing by, but my reflection just stares back at me, reflected by the night. I look into my own eyes, at the wearyness I see there mixed with my feelings, all competing for dominance in my head. They leave me with that look in my eyes, those dark circles underneath. They leave me feeling like this, so alone, so tired, so utterly uncaring.
I'm glad to be moving, I couldn't have stayed still any longer if my life depended on it. I've hardly gone anywhere in weeks but now I can only keep moving or be swamped by even more intense emotional battles. I turn away from my reflection, suddenly seeing a different face in the glass, the one that never leaves me.
"Last stop," the bus driver announces, "everyone off. We're at the end of the line."
I stare at the back of his seat while everyone else files off the bus. I get off last and listen to the bus drive away behind me. I start walking, keeping to well-lit streets with many people so I don't stand out. I eventually start making my way home, finally ready to crawl into bed and retreat for another night. I do just that when I get there, hardly bothering to change into my pj's.
As usual, I can only think of him and all the times we had together and now all the times we won't. There are so many things I would have done differently, had I known what would happen. I lie there awake for hours before finally drifting off to sleep.
In my dream I am trapped in small white room with no doors or windows and a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. I am screaming and yelling and crying but there is no sound. I am screaming louder, one long, pained shriek trying desperately to be heard by anyone, anyone who can come help get me out of here. I am pounding on the walls with my fists, kicking and even biting, but every punch I land bounces back and hits me instead. I keep desperately trying to break free, but I am only beating and bruising myself. Finally I slump to the floor, my knuckles battered and bloodied, bruises and scratches all over my body. My body goes completely limp and I collapse on the ground, where I become subject to horrifying convulsions, writhing and twitching for several minutes before I finally just lie face down, raking my fingernails along the floor in calm panic, having given up any hope of ever getting out.
