Feeling Sick

I feel sick.

It's not his fault and it has nothing to do with him. Shockingly the bus driver is nothing but nice to me but that doesn't help at all. Because none of this makes any sense to me.

And so I feel sick.

I can remember this moment, I can remember all of this. I know that I got off the bus and I walked down the road traversing the short distance from the depot to the school by foot. I walked it because I wanted to get a sense of the city and a feel for it and I walked it because I'd spent hours cramped up in the bus and wanted to stretch my legs.

And I could still do all of that. The differences here, they were so minor that I could see myself passing my time in the exact same way. I think I remember that girl, the one with the backpack covered in all those patches from all those different places. I think I remember the guy in the corner swaying and clearly still drunk from the night before.

I remember him too, the bus driver. And he is the same in every single way except for the way he is treating me.

"Hey there," he asks me, "Are you okay? You look like you're a little out of sorts. Did you need to get off earlier? Miss your stop?"

How do I explain to this man that I've done all this before and that I know that there is something wrong here, that he’s not acting like himself? How do I say that without sounding like I'm crazy?

So I open my mouth and then close it because I have no words for the way that I'm feeling right now and I shake my head instead of saying anything. I swallow hard, blinking up at him and wiling the world to stop spinning.

He smiles at me. He actually smiles. He puts his hand on my shoulders and squeezes a little reassuringly, nodding like he knows what's bothering me when damn but he doesn't have the first clue.

"First day?" he asks me, and I nod again, "Hey I know how that can be. I mean I never did the whole college thing but I've moved towns and started jobs more times than I can count so I know how it can be. You'll be just fine in the end. I'm sure of it. You've got the look about you. The look of someone who can charm with just a glance, you know?"

I didn't have the first idea what he was talking about but he was still smiling so I smiled back. His smile grew broader at that and then he patted me once more on my shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment before he pulled it back and took a step back from me, fussing with his shirt for an instant.

"Well I hope I helped. You just... uh... you just have a good day now, you hear?"

I tried to say thank you, but my voice broke in a squeak and I quailed, turning on my heel and rushing away. I felt overwhelmed still, rushing towards the doors of the bus depot and looking back once more at him before I slipped inside.

He was staring at me, watching me leave. The moment was almost imperceptible but his eyes snapped upwards just a little when he saw me turn. He was looking down. He was looking at my waist? He was...

No. No that didn't make any sense at all.

But that of course wasn't unusual. Nothing about any of this made any sense at all to me and as I pulled open the door and stepped inside I held my hand tight, concentrating on the sensations of the world around me and focusing on it.

Everything was heightened when I paid attention. Everything was undeniable in its own way. All of it present and there and so real and god that was terrifying because it meant this wasn't a fucking dream and it meant that I was really back here.

Rushing to the bathroom I pulled open the door. The world felt like it was surging around me, roiling in that way it does when you've had too much to drink and you can feel everything rushing up. I moved to the sink, snapping on the tap and cupping the water to splash on my face in the hopes it would return normalcy to me.

God how wrong I was.

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