I dragged my feet up the steps of the bus, dirty blonde hair in a haphazard ponytail, bags under my eyes, filled with desperation to get away from it all. 

Avoiding eye contact, I handed the driver a few crumpled dollar bills. Choosing a seat was easy. Three quarters back, left side. My seat on any bus would forever remain a constant in my life. It felt wrong to sit anywhere else.

As I sat down, I realized how awful I must look. Besides the fact that my hair was a disaster, I was wearing an old baggy sweatshirt along with ripped jeans, but not the kind that were ripped on purpose. I stared out the window, rain tapping on the window in a kind of lullaby, with hardly a thought in my head.

Just then, a wave of nostalgia hit me like a brick wall. 

Suddenly the world seemed bright, sun streamed through the windows, and the faded seats transformed into a vibrant, more appealing blue. I watched as a young girl and her mother climbed aboard the bus. The girl seemed so put together and perfect. Bright blonde hair in two braids, skin glowing, wearing a powder blue dress, perfectly ironed.

Oh how I longed to look like her. Oh how I wanted to feel put together again, rather than a storm of pieces tumbling about, broken and distraught. The girl’s mother looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept well in days, but nonetheless a soft smile appeared as her daughter happily skipped down the aisle of the bus.

Despite the bus being practically empty, the pair sat directly in front of me. It puzzled me. Why would a girl, so put together and elated, choose to sit anywhere near the heap of misery that was me? Normally, two average people like this wouldn’t faze me, but for some reason I was encapsulated. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was the fact that my mind was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Maybe it was jealousy.

As I pondered this, once again lost in my thoughts, the mother’s voice made me jump, “Alice, sweet pea, don’t kick the seat.” 

I seemed to race through time, back to reality.

The sun vanished, the bus seats faded back into a faded blue-gray, and the pit in my stomach returned. My head spun as I attempted to reorient myself. The rain was no longer a soft lullaby, but a storm, threatening to unleash its wrath on the old, decrepit bus. I didn’t even recognize that “powder blue dress” version of myself until I heard her name. She was completely foreign in my mind. It was like she had been erased, similar to all the useless information I threw out of my head after taking a test at school.

And that version of my mother. Still tired of course, but free from the drugs and alcohol she used to cope with the troubles of her world. Tired and a little broken, but still hopeful and full of light. What terrified me is the fact that I saw myself in her. Over time she turned to a different type of tired, the kind that sleep can’t fix. She was bound by a sadness only pills could make you forget. I couldn’t end up like her, could I?

Instantly, the panic set in. “Oh my god I need to get off,” I said to myself, voice trembling. Hot tears filled my eyes until the world was blurry. I felt lightheaded in a way that made me feel as though I was floating above my body. Then the nausea hit. My vision started to fade, and soon the blurriness of the world turned to black. 

I wanted my mom. 

For once in what seemed a lifetime, I longed for nothing more than her. As if a hug could fix this. I desperately wanted to be that girl in the powder blue dress. All I wanted was for my mom to wrap her arms around me and tell me that’ll all be ok.

I wanted my problems to wash away and feel free again. I wanted nothing else.

Tears once again filled my eyes, causing the world to go fuzzy. My heart ached. Despite my head pounding with each heartbeat in my chest and the waves of nausea washing over me, I had to pull myself together. As the adrenaline pumping through my body prompted me to run to the front of the bus, my thoughts froze me in place.

What if I hate myself for getting off? What if I hate myself for staying on? I wished some kind of god could tell me the right answer. Even though I dwelled on each thought that crossed my mind, something inside of me screamed to run off the bus and never look back.

I stumbled to the front of the bus, nearly tripping over my too long jeans. I felt the stares of the other passengers piercing me like a knife. I didn’t care though. All that mattered was getting off of this bus. I needed to fix things. I couldn’t let the broken relationships remain broken. “I need to get off right now,” I said, voice cracking more with each word.

“Whatever you say, kid,” the driver responded.

Oh the wave of relief that washed over me. That feeling was far better than any high drugs could bring. My heart felt light. Maybe things would finally be ok.

Just then, my ears rang, a flash of light hitting me before instantly transforming to darkness. The same darkness I’d been stuck in for years. The same darkness my mom was stuck in. There was no escape. We’d be stuck there. Forever.