She’s everywhere: on my phone, in my photo gallery, my texts, my wall, my book shelf, my cupboard, my wrist, my lips, my heart and on my mind. I wanted to leave her behind, to go ahead but she’s everywhere. There traces of her smile, our laughter, hugs, memories, conversations, and empty coffee glasses scattered everywhere.
I’ve had an alternate life with her; we’ve spent a lot of time together; I haven’t been to places we often went to together, I don’t miss those places. I’m not scared of running into her, but of her walking away from me when I run into her somewhere there.
I dreamt of her on the first weekend since we stopped talking. We ran into each other and sorted the fight and hugged it out; but my instincts tell me this might be the end.
I’ve been avoiding her and the people from her life like the plague, because I may survive the plague but not her stone cold face or disgust.
I want enough courage to see her again, but I don’t know what it is going to be like after that, my biggest nightmare.
I have been sitting in the bus since four am, I think. The bus is in a really bad condition, my back does not like be treated so but this is the only way I can get out of this god forsaken country.
I’ve been here all my life. I have had bad days, miserable days and days where even death seemed like a silly joke. This bus ride may not be good for my health or body, but this country is so much worse. The owner of the bus is a terrible human being, all he seemed to care about was money but he didn’t seem evil just greedy. Greedy like all the men in my life, nothing ever seems to satisfy their thirst, hunger or cravings.
We made our first stop, a bunch of men got into the bus, old and young with their silly smiles and stupid suits they think it makes them look important or something, those poor bastards. I have mastered the skill of invisibility, it was important for me to not draw attention to myself while walking on the streets, markets or even in my own house.
A young woman got into the bus at the next bus shelter with an idiot around her arms, he was either busy stuffing his face with food or her. She reminded me of my youth, if only I could have lived her life, the opportunity to run from this Gypsy song playing hell hole, to start afresh, a new life and livelihood. The men as always devoured the girl with their eyes and girls have to learn to deal with it.
It felt like the land didnt want to let me leave, there was always something getting in the way from me leaving. The bus broke down, the tyre was stabbed in, the bus was caught in a free fire and then the army takes it over. I try my best to get out, but there is something coming in my way. The stupid gypsy boys were getting beaten up and that was when the city started getting bombed, I have no more hope.