CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
I manage to be the first person on the bus and I'm quite happy about that. I always try to get on first, usually just by getting to the bus stop early. Skipping in front of people who are already waiting isn't something I'd do though. Getting on first allows me to sit anywhere I want. I choose a seat right in the middle of the bus, one with plenty of leg room. There are seats with more leg room further up, I recall, but they're slightly elevated and on the wheel and I don't like that. I want the smoothest ride possible. It has been quite a while since I've been on a bus and it is a fairly long journey, but I'm sure I'll be able to handle it. All I have to do is sit. I sit...and watch.
I watch the people as they come on. I automatically look for attractive girls. Perhaps years ago, when I used to ride the bus regularly, I'd hold some vague hope that one day I'd talk to an attractive girl on the bus and really hit it off with her. It never happened, but the hope could be exciting. I'm under no such illusions now, of course, but I still like to look at them. Don't I? I see one and an echo of how I used to feel when I looked at pretty girls goes through my body. Just a memory, a copy of a copy, but it's something. Maybe if I start getting the bus more regularly again the feeling will grow. Maybe I'll get back to my old self. Maybe. For now it's just weird to actually see so many real, three-dimensional people again. I don't get out much.
One girl, dark-haired with blond streaks, catches my eye. I like her face. It has that maddeningly indefinable quality that appeals to me. I know it when I see it. She reminds me of someone, actually, but I have no idea who. A girl from school? An old man gets in the way of her. Move! He sits down in front of me. Ah, there she is, two seats in front. Excellent, I can watch the back of her head on the way home. She's with another female friend (who didn't catch my eye but I'm sure she's perfectly attractive in her own way, we're all beautiful unique snowflakes and all that) and a male friend (he's a bit weird looking to be honest.) The other girl is talking to the guy but streaks-in-her-hair is just sitting there. I can't even see her reflection in the glass at the front of the bus and I still haven't remembered who she reminds me of. Maybe this isn't so excellent after all. Maybe I should go to sleep.
The problem with sleeping on the bus is that you look stupid. Well, I always imagine I look stupid when I fall asleep on a bus. The way your head starts falling forward and you suddenly wake up and sit up straight, embarrassed...it draws attention and the last thing I want is attention. Watching is fine, but no attention. No, I'll stay awake.
I check in on the girl again. Still just sitting. I examine the hair pattern of the old guy in front of me. He only has one swirl on the back of his head. I have two. It makes my hair grow funny. Why do we need those swirls at all? Why doesn't the hair just grow straight out? Ah, the mysteries of life.
I look out the window for a while. All the normal people living their normal lives. Smiling and smoking and laughing and...the bus stops in front of two people kissing. Like, really going for it. Both quite sruffy looking, but the girl looks quite pretty when she comes up for air. Why doesn't she dress better? I suppose she doesn't care. She seems happy. You can get away with almost anything if you're happy.
I see another good looking girl a few minutes later. She's in a school uniform, but she looks at least 17 or 18. Surely just the fact that she's wearing a school uniform doesn't make it "wrong" to notice that she's attractive? Yet somehow it feels like it is. I look away, a bit ashamed of myself.
Now the girl two seats down's friend is talking to their male friend. Laughing about something. Smiling. He's not any better looking than me. Does this mean I could be friends with a girl? Well, no, I can't smile and laugh. Certainly not in public anyway...no, not anywhere. It's just not something I do. How DO people do it, anyway? Laugh and talk at the same time? How do they control their faces so masterfully? It must just feel natural to them. Amazing. Streaks-in-her-hair joins in with the laughing briefly and I see the side of her face. She DOES look like someone, definitely, but I still have no idea who.
I realise that I've spent most of my time on the bus looking at girls. Is that wrong? Does that make me some kind of pervert? I really don't think I am, but how would it look to them if they caught me staring? Would I be worried about this if I didn't have Asperger's? No, of course not. If I didn't have Asperger's I'd know how long it was acceptable for to stare at girls on buses.
The old guy in front of me gets up to leave the bus. Just after he gets off and the bus starts moving again, someone bangs on the window, wanting the driver to stop so they can get on. "I nearly shat myself!" the driver says, after the banging. They come running after the bus...but the driver just keeps going! I find this slightly amusing. Is it right that I find humour in the misfortune of others? I used to care about people, didn't I? Well, no. I used to WANT to be the kind of person who cares about other pople. I wanted to be a good person. I don't really want to be anything now. I'm just coasting through life, a passenger, not a part of anything. I don't like it much, but it's less terrifying than the alternative.
Streaks-in-her-hair laughed at the driver saying "I nearly shat myself!" too. She has a sense of humour! Obviously, the perfect girl. Maybe I actually DID go to school with her but I can only remember her as a vague imprint now. Her male friend gets off at the next stop. Maybe I should go and sit where he was and talk to her (and her less attractive friend)?
No, that's never going to happen.
What's this!? She puts her head on her friend shoulder like she's going to sleep there! Are they lesbians!? No, probably just friend who have no hang-ups about personal space. I really don't like to be touched and it always surprises me when I see that other people can do it so easily and so comfortably.
And now she and her friend are getting up. It's her stop. I finally get to see her ass! It's...disappointing. I'm sad. I watch her get off the bus and start to walk away with her friend. Actually, her ass is perfectly fine, it's just that her legs are a bit short. Maybe she's not my dream girl after all. I feel guitly though, for thinking her ass was disappointing. Still, it's not like she could hear me think that. Could she!? No, that's not how it works...
Well, she's gone now, out of my life forever. Easy come, easy go. I could sleep now...but that song from the iPod advert is stuck in my head again. I couldn't make it go away this morning. Annoying. I guess this means the advertising worked on me. I always though I was immune to such things. Go away! Nope, it won't go. Okay, I'll download the song, but I'm NOT buying an iPod. The advertising has failed. I win!
Of course, if I did have an iPod then I wouldn't have to think on the bus.
I'm NOT just thinking though, am I? It's like I'm keeping a journal, no, a running commentary on everything that happens to me. I used to do it all the time. But nothing ever happens to me now, since I spend months on end at home with no contact with the outside world, so I only really do it on special occassions. This bus trip is literally the most exciting thing I've done in months. And even then, the commentary isn't as detailed or vibrant as it once was. It used to seem more important too.
What was it? My thoughts were being transmitted to aliens? I never REALLY thought that, did I? Not even at my worst I couldn't have believed that. It was more like my thoughts were being recorded in someway and I'd get to hear them again...yes, that was it! I'd get to hear them again when I died! I was always trying to comment on EVERYTHING that happened, just in case I died at that moment and it wasn't recorded for eternity. A strange belief, but at least it kept me thinking all the time. I abandoned all such childish beliefs many years ago. I wish I was a child again.
Nearly home. Can see my town. Can see the hills in the distance, the hills I can see from my house. Oddly, they look the same here as they do from my house. In fact they don't move at all while the rest of the land speeds by. That can't be right! I've discovered a flaw in reality! It's all fake, I knew it! This ISN'T my life afterall!
Well, no, it's all a matter of perspective. Things that are far away don't appear to move when you're in a bus. I know that, of course. I'm not stupid. But I guess the old childish fantasist comes to the surface sometimes.
I don't think much for the next five minutes. Then it's my stop. As I get up I feel guilty because I ended up not sleeping at all on the bus. Because it was something I planned to do I feel like I SHOULD have done it and I've made a huge mistake by not doing it. Maybe something bad will happen to me now. Maybe I'll die! Well, at least I can listen to my recorded thoughts when I do.
As the bus drives away I see another girl with streaks on her hair sitting at the back. Maybe I saw her and that's who the second girl, the one I whose back of head I had a special relationship with, reminded me of. Or maybe it was just some girl from school. Maybe she just reminded me of that maddening, indefinable quality I remember liking. I'll probably never know which it is. It would have been nice if I'd remembered before the end of the bus journey. It would have tied everything up. But real life isn't like that. Things don't always work out or make sense. You can't record every thought before you die.
Head hurts. Don't want to think anymore. Maybe I should start writing my thoughts down instead of just thinking them. At least then they'd actually exist, physically. Nah, I'd never be able to remember them all and they wouldn't make sense once I wrote them anyway. Nothing makes sense. I'm not meant for this world. I don't even enjoy watching anymore.
I watch the people as they come on. I automatically look for attractive girls. Perhaps years ago, when I used to ride the bus regularly, I'd hold some vague hope that one day I'd talk to an attractive girl on the bus and really hit it off with her. It never happened, but the hope could be exciting. I'm under no such illusions now, of course, but I still like to look at them. Don't I? I see one and an echo of how I used to feel when I looked at pretty girls goes through my body. Just a memory, a copy of a copy, but it's something. Maybe if I start getting the bus more regularly again the feeling will grow. Maybe I'll get back to my old self. Maybe. For now it's just weird to actually see so many real, three-dimensional people again. I don't get out much.
One girl, dark-haired with blond streaks, catches my eye. I like her face. It has that maddeningly indefinable quality that appeals to me. I know it when I see it. She reminds me of someone, actually, but I have no idea who. A girl from school? An old man gets in the way of her. Move! He sits down in front of me. Ah, there she is, two seats in front. Excellent, I can watch the back of her head on the way home. She's with another female friend (who didn't catch my eye but I'm sure she's perfectly attractive in her own way, we're all beautiful unique snowflakes and all that) and a male friend (he's a bit weird looking to be honest.) The other girl is talking to the guy but streaks-in-her-hair is just sitting there. I can't even see her reflection in the glass at the front of the bus and I still haven't remembered who she reminds me of. Maybe this isn't so excellent after all. Maybe I should go to sleep.
The problem with sleeping on the bus is that you look stupid. Well, I always imagine I look stupid when I fall asleep on a bus. The way your head starts falling forward and you suddenly wake up and sit up straight, embarrassed...it draws attention and the last thing I want is attention. Watching is fine, but no attention. No, I'll stay awake.
I check in on the girl again. Still just sitting. I examine the hair pattern of the old guy in front of me. He only has one swirl on the back of his head. I have two. It makes my hair grow funny. Why do we need those swirls at all? Why doesn't the hair just grow straight out? Ah, the mysteries of life.
I look out the window for a while. All the normal people living their normal lives. Smiling and smoking and laughing and...the bus stops in front of two people kissing. Like, really going for it. Both quite sruffy looking, but the girl looks quite pretty when she comes up for air. Why doesn't she dress better? I suppose she doesn't care. She seems happy. You can get away with almost anything if you're happy.
I see another good looking girl a few minutes later. She's in a school uniform, but she looks at least 17 or 18. Surely just the fact that she's wearing a school uniform doesn't make it "wrong" to notice that she's attractive? Yet somehow it feels like it is. I look away, a bit ashamed of myself.
Now the girl two seats down's friend is talking to their male friend. Laughing about something. Smiling. He's not any better looking than me. Does this mean I could be friends with a girl? Well, no, I can't smile and laugh. Certainly not in public anyway...no, not anywhere. It's just not something I do. How DO people do it, anyway? Laugh and talk at the same time? How do they control their faces so masterfully? It must just feel natural to them. Amazing. Streaks-in-her-hair joins in with the laughing briefly and I see the side of her face. She DOES look like someone, definitely, but I still have no idea who.
I realise that I've spent most of my time on the bus looking at girls. Is that wrong? Does that make me some kind of pervert? I really don't think I am, but how would it look to them if they caught me staring? Would I be worried about this if I didn't have Asperger's? No, of course not. If I didn't have Asperger's I'd know how long it was acceptable for to stare at girls on buses.
The old guy in front of me gets up to leave the bus. Just after he gets off and the bus starts moving again, someone bangs on the window, wanting the driver to stop so they can get on. "I nearly shat myself!" the driver says, after the banging. They come running after the bus...but the driver just keeps going! I find this slightly amusing. Is it right that I find humour in the misfortune of others? I used to care about people, didn't I? Well, no. I used to WANT to be the kind of person who cares about other pople. I wanted to be a good person. I don't really want to be anything now. I'm just coasting through life, a passenger, not a part of anything. I don't like it much, but it's less terrifying than the alternative.
Streaks-in-her-hair laughed at the driver saying "I nearly shat myself!" too. She has a sense of humour! Obviously, the perfect girl. Maybe I actually DID go to school with her but I can only remember her as a vague imprint now. Her male friend gets off at the next stop. Maybe I should go and sit where he was and talk to her (and her less attractive friend)?
No, that's never going to happen.
What's this!? She puts her head on her friend shoulder like she's going to sleep there! Are they lesbians!? No, probably just friend who have no hang-ups about personal space. I really don't like to be touched and it always surprises me when I see that other people can do it so easily and so comfortably.
And now she and her friend are getting up. It's her stop. I finally get to see her ass! It's...disappointing. I'm sad. I watch her get off the bus and start to walk away with her friend. Actually, her ass is perfectly fine, it's just that her legs are a bit short. Maybe she's not my dream girl after all. I feel guitly though, for thinking her ass was disappointing. Still, it's not like she could hear me think that. Could she!? No, that's not how it works...
Well, she's gone now, out of my life forever. Easy come, easy go. I could sleep now...but that song from the iPod advert is stuck in my head again. I couldn't make it go away this morning. Annoying. I guess this means the advertising worked on me. I always though I was immune to such things. Go away! Nope, it won't go. Okay, I'll download the song, but I'm NOT buying an iPod. The advertising has failed. I win!
Of course, if I did have an iPod then I wouldn't have to think on the bus.
I'm NOT just thinking though, am I? It's like I'm keeping a journal, no, a running commentary on everything that happens to me. I used to do it all the time. But nothing ever happens to me now, since I spend months on end at home with no contact with the outside world, so I only really do it on special occassions. This bus trip is literally the most exciting thing I've done in months. And even then, the commentary isn't as detailed or vibrant as it once was. It used to seem more important too.
What was it? My thoughts were being transmitted to aliens? I never REALLY thought that, did I? Not even at my worst I couldn't have believed that. It was more like my thoughts were being recorded in someway and I'd get to hear them again...yes, that was it! I'd get to hear them again when I died! I was always trying to comment on EVERYTHING that happened, just in case I died at that moment and it wasn't recorded for eternity. A strange belief, but at least it kept me thinking all the time. I abandoned all such childish beliefs many years ago. I wish I was a child again.
Nearly home. Can see my town. Can see the hills in the distance, the hills I can see from my house. Oddly, they look the same here as they do from my house. In fact they don't move at all while the rest of the land speeds by. That can't be right! I've discovered a flaw in reality! It's all fake, I knew it! This ISN'T my life afterall!
Well, no, it's all a matter of perspective. Things that are far away don't appear to move when you're in a bus. I know that, of course. I'm not stupid. But I guess the old childish fantasist comes to the surface sometimes.
I don't think much for the next five minutes. Then it's my stop. As I get up I feel guilty because I ended up not sleeping at all on the bus. Because it was something I planned to do I feel like I SHOULD have done it and I've made a huge mistake by not doing it. Maybe something bad will happen to me now. Maybe I'll die! Well, at least I can listen to my recorded thoughts when I do.
As the bus drives away I see another girl with streaks on her hair sitting at the back. Maybe I saw her and that's who the second girl, the one I whose back of head I had a special relationship with, reminded me of. Or maybe it was just some girl from school. Maybe she just reminded me of that maddening, indefinable quality I remember liking. I'll probably never know which it is. It would have been nice if I'd remembered before the end of the bus journey. It would have tied everything up. But real life isn't like that. Things don't always work out or make sense. You can't record every thought before you die.
Head hurts. Don't want to think anymore. Maybe I should start writing my thoughts down instead of just thinking them. At least then they'd actually exist, physically. Nah, I'd never be able to remember them all and they wouldn't make sense once I wrote them anyway. Nothing makes sense. I'm not meant for this world. I don't even enjoy watching anymore.
