Overheard on the 84..

Sometimes I find it hard to set my mind on some ‘safe’ career when I know that after all the study, all the boredom,  all the toil  and tribulation I could still end up talking to myself on the 84 at 10.54 on a Wednesday night…

The woman stared at the man with the empty eyes of a stranger. He spoke, ‘I have been through pure hell, she told them he’s losing the run of himself! I couldn’t possibly be forced to deal with this. We didn’t want this nightmare, I have everything but brains, no sense of guilt. Lets all just sit down and listen, because I don’t bloody know how to help you. We could use some therapy too! But its so embarrassing, not a subject for the dinner table.’ The woman tried to look out the window, and ignore the ravings, but I could see in her face that she was still listening. ‘For fucks sake!’ he continued, ‘The flattery! Darling you hate me for three reasons, I want to remove the pain I’ve caused you, punch me in the face for the right reasons. We are having a weird conversation, this is seriously a weird conversation! Why are we having this conversation!?’ The woman shuffled again, held her handbag closer to her chest. ‘I’m sorry for scaring you, nutcases’ he whispered, ‘I just don’t know what its like you foolish girl! Ill make a deal with you, but I don’t want the details, tell him I’m very sorry. SOMEBODY LISTEN! I’m really bloody sorry, a few years ago I could count up to thirty; HA HA HA! This is not something I’d do to my worst enemy, I’m just stating the fact, losing the run of myself and I freely admit it, I FREELY ADMIT IT! Let me do the talking ok? I have pragmatic purposes.. ahh the blasphemy! What do you want!? I just want someone to listen to me.. What do you want!? Fuck fuck fuck the effort! How will I ever get out of this? Weird situations, with weird explanations. That’s not something we can debate, but its something to be debated. The format of my brain. Because I privately swore to god I would die for you if I had to, I would die for you! I privately swore to god. I knew I’d say something to hurt you in the process of this, so the natural solution was to avoid you sweetheart, it’s a question of your sanity. He’s dead. Do you want to hear the story? Well I told you the story. That’s the way I finished BSS in Trinity. Fucking gas.’

Tears ran down the old mans cheeks, as the bus rolled down a hill and all I could hear was the road beneath us and the faint sound of a bell, the woman standing up to leave.

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