As I sit here, my head feels slightly puffy, warm, and dizzy. The sides of my face hurt. Why? Why does it hurt? What’s going on with my face that would make the outsides of my face sore? Oh, it’s because I’m smiling… I need to stop smiling. I can’t stop. How can you curve the corners of you mouth down? I make the boy feel the corners of my mouth and the effects of my straining muscles. “I’m going to tell you something mean to make you not smile, dear.” I immediately frown and look dejected. No smiles.
The old lady sitting next to us also sighs. “Kids, always so immature.” She was like a human, cat-less version of Grzabella, Memories, being all alone in the moonlight, smiling at the old days. Except bitter and less victimized. She ticks her tongue as she continues to knit her scarf, shaking her head at these youngsters.
The bus jolts to a halt, and the passengers were taken aback by this sudden movement. They roll their heads back and forth, pausing at one side of the pendulum, swinging back to the other side without turning their heads around. It’s like they are going for a roller coaster ride along the curve of my lips, the swing of the grandfather clock. As their eyes roll to the back of their heads, there is a simultaneous bump to the back of their respective seats.
“Fuck! You know how much a pain and liability this is?” the bus driver yells as he gets off and inspects the damages. He hit the traffic light pole in attempt to swerve away from an old man crossing street perpendicular to the bus route. A circle of people gathered around the traffic light pole to examine the damages. Some people are chattering on their cell phones. I hope that they are calling the ambulance or something like that, but diffusion of responsibility will probably prevent anyone from actually feeling like they need to make the call.
The world must go on. Not being acclimated to the fact that the traffic lights were no longer operating correctly, the four sides crashed, clashing like two sets of cymbals being played almost simultaneously. Engines leaking gas, various people yelling at each other. More sirens, more onlookers, more diffusion of responsibility.
Governmental figures coming to the scene, yet they are also in trouble, their funds cut off due to the irresponsible practices of their predecessors. They are caught in the budgetary process, needing funding yet being pressured not to raise taxes. Allocations are directed towards things that are urgent while long-term investments in our children are being sacrificed.
I feel like my body is floating up higher, seeing more things. Multiple crashes, multiple burglaries, multiple crime scenes. Why can we only visually identify the unfortunate things in the world? When someone does something good, it’s not displayed the way bad things are. How do you see when someone finds the cure for cancer, if someone has an encouraging discussion with someone who has been abused by her husband, or if someone feeds a child? The surface of the earth is covered by the scars and remnants of strife, crime, and heartache.
Of course you can see beautiful things on the earth too: what nature built, the art and architecture humans have created, the still waters., and the energy of civilization. It’s like a life within a life within a life. A human within a couple within some surrounding observers, within a bus full of people within a street corner within the other people on the road, within the state of California, within a nation, within connected countries, within civilization. Coming together, washing over each other, bouncing off each other, heading in different directions but feeling the vibrations of neighboring life forms reverberating into their respective paths.
A system of life within life, trauma within circles of trauma, stressful energy within stressful energy. This is all amplifying, filling up the earth, making it explode with all those pent up dark clouds. The pressure points are originating from those points where traumatic events were born. Even a small collision with a traffic light can have a huge impact on many people.
The boy and I are just a speck of nothing. I guess this is why people take drugs - to feel lighter, warmer, and puffier. It’s like you’re transcending Earth to go into some other layer of atmospheric pressure level, looking at the world as if you were big and IT were the spec. Not you. Higher, higher, goodbye forever.
Disclaimer: This piece was written during my first time smoking and is unedited. Random parts of it were influenced by music the boy was playing.