My back’s hurting so i look for a seat. I sit and it still hurts. I shift my weight to get comfortable but the pain shoots around at different angles instead.
Page 144. I continue reading and for a moment i’m taken out of my body, away from the world, into the book. Then the bus slows down and i look up, in time to see my stop approaching. I get up and head to the door.
My back’s hurting.
Pain is life. Life is pain.
The guy in front of me has his right arm bent at that slightly awkward angle and you know he’s broken it before. Funny how broken arms heal in that strange way. He looks happy and doesn’t seem to notice his strange-angled arm sticking out like a sore thumb. Sore arm.
Thinking about his arm takes my mind away from the pain and then it all comes back again. I’m strong, tall, i look healthy. No one would imagine me hurting so much. Every moment since that day i’ve had the pain. It’s a strange sensation, it doesn’t hurt to the point i scream out, it’s a kind of discomfort. Like a tight muscle that won’t loosen no matter how much you stretch it. It’s stubborn and sticking at all the wrong places, probably pulling my bones out of their happy resting spots.
The man with the once-broken arm is in front of me, waiting too to cross the road. The other man is red and the cars are still zooming across us.
In one blissful moment i forget everything and nothing is on my mind. I don’t feel my legs as i cross the road, the red man screaming out at me silently through his mouthless face. I just walk and don’t see the cars zooming around me.
The sudden shriek of brakes makes me stop and i turn to see a lorry just inches from me, the driver’s face curled in anger, shouting something about me in some language, his one arm on the wheel the other making strange shapes and movements. It’s supposed to mean something but i just stare at him.
I squint to see if he’s got a strange-angled arm too. It seems fine. I guess he had a good childhood free from broken arms.
I go back to thinking about the pain in my back as i resume crossing the road.
Pain is life and life is pain.
I wish to die. Am i a bad person for wishing to die? I like this gift thank you very much but i’m tired, and i can’t go on, so please take it back. I’ll wait but just so you know i would very much like you to take it back, if that’s okay with you. If it’s not then it’s alright but i just wanted you to know. Yes. Yes that’s right. Mmhmm. Uh-huh. Okay i’ll hold, no problem. Thank you.