This seems like a good place to post my little story. Here goes:
I got to PA [Pennsylvania] for 2 weeks, one spent with my aunt and uncle, the second spent with my gf. While by my
gf's, I was out of contact with my family, so they naturally assumed the worse: I am missing. My parents call the
entire family, file a report of me missing with the cops, basically all-around panic with a raging hard-on. When I left
PA [another story I shall include at the bottom of this rant] and got home I, by the mercy of some gracious drunken God,
didn't get into any trouble. My parents were too drunk to crucify me, I guess.
For those of you who wish to hear the sad tale of my departure from PA, read on, otherwise...well, don't.
"It's on the way to the bus station when her left hand gets off the steering wheel and makes contact with
mine, gripping it and gently stroking my fingers. I look over at her and see her lips emotionally forced into the
slightest of frowns. I respond, gripping back and stroking her hand with my thumb and I tell her not to worry, things
will be fine, we'll see each other again.
She nods slightly. I know that she is trying to let go, but somehow cannot. I feel the same, but I know it is worse for
her. I made her promise me, earlier that morn, that when we reached the bus station she wouldn't wait for my bus to
arrive, for her to leave as soon as she dropped me off. She told me that she wanted to stay just one minute. When we get
there, her eyes shrink wrapped in tears, we simultaneously reach over and share our last kiss. Her eyes are getting
redder and I think to myself, "I must hasten." I know that if I see her cry, I will not be able to bear it. We
both exit the car, she pops the trunk and I withdraw my suitcase. She's sniffing, about to weep and I rub her
shoulders. I smile, a smile so forced that I know it isn't the least bit genuine, but for her sake I do it. I
reassure her, still smiling that awful fake smile, telling her that we'll see each other soon, for her not to
worry, that one day we won't have to hide, that we'll be together and never have to say goodbye again. I hold
her tight, breathe in her sweet fragrance and sigh out loud. "Take care, hun", I say to her, and depart
quickly, turning away from her, not looking back.
I go into the station, the bus will be a little late, but not by much, the clerk tells me. I sit on the bench and
wait.
Ooo, Casper's on TV. Yes, the terrible real life version. Oh well. Casper helps take my mind off my grief and that
of the woman I love, the woman who gave her all to me and continues to give, the woman whom I cherish and hold dearer
than my own life. I reach for the ring, her ring which she gave me, this small metal and stone memento of our time
together, and I stroke it lightly, thinking of the moments we shared in the past 5 days. I feel a knot in my
stomach...then one in my throat. I fight with every ounce of my strength not to shed a single tear. I, oddly enough,
begin to think of when we watched Vampire Hunter D the other night and I think of what D said to the boy in the movie.
"...it's ok to cry if there's good reason..." That as it may be, I still fight back the tears. And
they are held at bay for now. I look outside and see her car is gone and for a moment I half-heartedly hope she'll
return and take me somewhere free of all these troubles, but she doesn't. A fool's hope. She won't come
back until I return to this station another time.
Soon enough the bus arrives, I stow my suitcase in the compartment underneath and board, take my seat, settle myself.
For now, the second time since I left her last December, I am completely aching inside, seemingly worse than before. I
know that she's crying. I can feel those hot salty tears stream down her face as she drives home. The bus moves out
and I think to myself, "This is it. I'm moving further away from the woman I love." I know I will see her
again, I smile that fake smile at myself this time and reassure myself this time...or try to at least. I think of
nothing but her pain and how I feel it as much as she does. Inside I am dying. The knots in my throat and stomach get
even tighter and the tears, like an overflowing dam, try to break through. Then I begin to wonder about my story, and
wonder if any one of these people that I'm sharing the bus with has some sort of story. Who's leaving behind a
weeping girlfriend? Who's running away from their parents? Who's leaving everything they once knew and held
dear for some greater purpose? Who is carrying a gun on board? My thoughts begin to get even more morbid.
Who's going to stand up, mid-ride, pull out a gun and take the bus hostage? Who will he shoot? Will I try to stop
him and get shot myself? Will I die this moment? Will I be happy with myself before I die if I were to die at this
moment? Would I despair that I hadn't done more with my life up until now?
I can answer that question. I would have been happy to die knowing an angel on earth. The sweetest, warmest, most tender
creature I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, of meeting, of spending time with, of loving.
I begin to feel a bit better. The knots loosen. With each bus I change, I feel sadder knowing that I am farther away
from her, the light of my life, but the more content I am, the more assured I am, knowing that this isn't the end,
that, hell, it isn't even the beginning yet.
Before I know it, I'm finally home, greeted with an email from her. I reply, letting her know how much she means to
me, how much I care and love her. So for now, I will take it easy, I will take life day by day, and should my time end
anytime soon, I will have died a happy man."
