Ouroborous

Rainy. The wind bellows with a calm ferocity, not too hard to make him cold but not enough to ease the humid heat of the tropics despite the strangely cold summer evening in the last weeks of May; the downpour that was long delayed finally started with a cacophony of tears from the sky crashing softly with the ground, creating puddles that intermixed with wet cement and mud that threatened to soil his white shoes.

It was supposed to be a day like any other, despite the head splitting hangover last night, he made sure to soldier on. Scolded heavily by his mother and still a little shaken from the intense partying; he never would've thought news would reach him this quickly.

Anxiety held a tight grip on his very soul while he gripped tighter on the handle of this foldable umbrella, a small sigh escaping his lips as he simply put the earphones back. His other free hand would go on over to his phone to play a tune that would forever haunt him until he truly moves forward with the consistency of time.

With hands in his pockets, heart pumping with each passing second as the adrenaline tried getting to him, the alcohol from last night hadn't worn off yet. His hand shook violently with his haphazard attempt to compose himself that failed miserably, the young man couldn't help but be bombarded with a mixed bag of emotions that's ripping through the very fabric of his existence right now. Everywhere he looked, a pain digs deeper in his chest. Growing like a cancer and manifesting in the form of chest pains that are slowly eating their way outwards, his palms sweaty and shaking; he was determined enough to at least see this through.

Desolate. A word that accurately describes this bus stop, but he was sure of the time tables; he'd done this all before, but never alone. Yet despite all the fleeting courage and depleting strength of his diminishing will,

His mind couldn't help but remember the interaction from last night. The kind words she said hiding the ugly truth in between the lines of sugar coated lies.

'What are we really?'

The flashing LED lights, the rain pouring down on the bleak black background.

'I'm sorry.'

Sounds of distant cars and sirens of ambulances, of the few people who are chatting nearby.

'I promise in the next life,'

The beating of his heart, the bead of sweat pouring down his forehead,

'I'll gladly give you a chance.'

His stomach churned, his head felt as if it flipped upside down. A small yet weak smile etched behind his mask despite being immensely distraught, like a madman on the verge of self-destruction he was slowly starting to lose it all. He looked back behind him, hoping to catch a glimpse of a fallacious fantasy that's nothing more than a bittersweet memory. But sadly, nobody was there. Not even her lingering shadow in his vast and endless imagination could conjure up a mirage as strong as her sugar coated lies.

As headlights in the distance illuminated part of the road in front of him. The distant sound of this rumbling engine paired with the rain and the music. No matter what he'd do, he couldn't forget about her. He was starting to have thoughts, if this was the feeling of insanity slowly tightening around his neck like noose.

But with the road in front of him, all he could do was to keep moving forward.

'I love you too.'

As the door opens and people step out, the driver simply looks at him. A bored and nonchalant expression plastered on the face of this man wearing blues and white, the sound of the windshield wiper and the low humming of the engine intermingling with the ever constant downpour of light rain as the LED lights of the station behind him slowly dim and flicker.

Sleepless nights with dead and baggy eyes, battling fatigue and exhaustion, climbing against stress and the horrible cruelty of this inescapable reality. He placed his free hand in his jacket and boarded the final bus headed back to a place he never thought of going back; To a place he left a long time ago, to a world where he barely remembers, to a place called home.

'Goodbye.'

"Never again."

The words escaped his lips like a whisper. Scattered by the breeze that picked them up to be carried to the distant lands of god knows where and lost among the drops of rain to be sent back up to the sky.

With a seat by the windowsill he leans against the frame.

Josh simply stared as the bus stop became smaller and smaller until it was out of sight. Despite all the suffering and hardships, he felt calm and at ease. Though pained, battered, and bruised. He simply looked on outside the window seeing the buildings pass by from the highest skyscrapers up to the smallest shacks built on the side of the road.

As the bus slowly began to leave the dense urban jungle of the city and take the road towards the highways; He couldn't help but notice the sudden and drastic decrease of people to the point where it felt it was only him seated by this window with the driver simply being a fragment of his imagination. The bus would stop at toll gates, it would speed at certain areas, it would slow down as speed bumps. But for the most part it's stable.

Stability. The importance of having a stable mind with a stable body.

When one fails the other just completely gets fucked over. His eyes glued to his phone waiting for messages that were never sent. There were no final messages, this was the fourth and final goodbye. He wanted to bash his head against the glass but what would it do? There's no sense in waiting for someone that'll never come back, she said it herself:

"You can't force someone to love you."

As the bus reaches the start of the highway, he simply puts the other earphone on while gazing towards the blurry background of the countryside; phone in hand he smiles slightly as he opens his Notes application.

—

This must be the feeling of insanity.

Coming back to someone who doesn't exist.

You already died, this you I don't remember.

Then again you've already burned everything before I could become sober.

Despite all the lies, you were my greatest regret,

I'll take all of our everything and I'll slowly forget,

That year and a half of insanity and madness,

Ended with a week of misery and sadness.

—

Content, he simply leaned back and enjoyed the long ride home, this time he'll come home alone.