Why does it feel so shit when you miss your bus by just a minute but you never feel the equivalent amount of joy when you just make the bus?
Yesterday, I ran for my bus from entering Raine Square all the way until I hopped onto the bus. The bus driver already was turning out but waited for me when he saw me running. I was out of breath, sweaty and probably had an interesting scent coming from my pits. But I made the bus (literally by a few seconds) and that's all that mattered.
But I didn't feel overwhelming pride and relief as I went to find a seat. Maybe a short flicker of happiness but nothing compared to the disappointment I would have felt had I missed it. Instead, I felt embarrassed and acutely self-conscious of other passengers looking at me.
I wanted to tie this post up by referring to this whole "bus joy sadness" thing as a big analogy for life in general. I have failed you and now I feel like a cliched douche shit. Bye.
J
About Me
- Junaberry
- I'm a student from Australia who used to have a lot of time on her hands but doesn't have that much anymore. Now she has other stuff on her hands.
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