Personal Favorites,  Prose and poetry,  Relationships

Letting buses pass me by

I dodge cars and trucks speeding by carelessly. I reach the other side of the road. Crossing the street without you holding my hand feels like tempting Death.

Photo by Yiran Ding on Unsplash

Standing on this street corner, I think of you. (I always think of you, of course, but tonight particularly.) I’m waiting for a bus to take me away from here and I suddenly remember how much I miss going home with you.

It’s August and it’s cold, the rainy season’s starting – do you still remember how we kissed under a light drizzle, on this very street corner? Or how we took so long to get home because we couldn’t take our eyes off each other for a second even to glance at the jeepney signboards?

You remember how I would let so many buses pass by before I’d actually board one? Truth be told, I was actually just waiting for a goodnight kiss, and I finally had to come out and ask you for it.

If I had known that one year later I’d be standing in this same spot all by myself, with no hope of ever getting that goodnight kiss again, I might have let five, ten, a hundred, a thousand, buses pass me by back then, just to have had more time with you.

This is a four-way intersection, and you took a different road.¬†It’s been twelve months and here I find myself retracing my steps over and over, wearing down the heels of my shoes, beating a path down the concrete.

I peer into the night, not to look for a bus, but to see where you might have gone.

Ela is a twentysomething who is constantly getting stuck in self-destructive behavior and bouts of low self-esteem. She struggles with depression and writes to relieve herself of her feelings. Sometimes she even blogs about other things like makeup and positivity. One of her pieces was published in the Inquirer Young Blood in October 2017. She likes cats, dogs, and sometimes even people.

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