The bus stop/shed boy

Is it an old guy? From my experience, usually older guys who stare at anything like that are either drunk or high.
No he is wearing headphones, he is a young guy.

As I approached the bus stop, a 192 swooped pass. I cringed, why did I not turn my head and look two seconds before.

I walked into the bus stop shed so I won't be in the rain. Shuffling my feet not really sure whether to sit or stand, I finally decided to lean against the advertisement board, facing the row of closed shops opposite. I studied the shops because I didn't know where else to look. It is just the social awkwardness of not knowing what to do.  I wonder how the inhabitants of the house by the shops sleep at night. Won't they be restless like I am because of the traffic?

I stole a look at the guy. He has his face turned towards the oncoming traffic, presumably waiting for his bus, evidently not 192. When he turned forward towards the shops, his face caught the light from the street lamps. I quickly turned my head back. He is much taller than I am from the looks of his bulk but he has the face of a boy, definitely younger than I am. Funny how age is written on our faces, but we can't pinpoint where and what is it in a moment.

In that bus stop/shed, there is just two of us. Two human beings. Under the rain but not in it. The sound of cars rushing by filled the air. Suddenly, I have a strong urge to sit beside him and ask him: "Hi, who are you?", and let him tell me about his life the way he wants to say it. It feels right to do so and it would be wonderful, talking to a stranger without restrain. No pressure of having to give an opinion about he says (I just met him I don't know about him enough anyway), or to maintain the relationship, or to or not to say hi when we meet again on the street, because we won't remember each other anyway. No strings attached at all. I feel happy just thinking about it. Maybe it is the quiet rainy evening, because I haven't felt so gloriously happy and free for some time.

But I didn't budge. Or sit down. Or say hi.

I looked at the shops, he looked at the street. That's it.

Time passed. He flicked out his phone. He was cautious to glance at the traffic every now and then. But slowly, he became engrossed in his phone.

A bus is coming. 205. It is emerging from the bend in the road into this short stretch of road.

My mind suddenly snapped into action.

Oh no. I glanced at him, he is still looking at his phone. Is it his bus?

I glanced at the approaching bus, and him, and the bus. Should I call to him and ask?

At that moment, he looked up, stayed still for a moment as he read the bus number, then sprang up flinging his arms to hail the bus.

It was too late, the bus was already in front of us, and then beyond us. His back looked frustrated. His shoulders hung back in defeat. He must have been here a long time.

A pang of guilt hit me hard. My mind and then my heart. Why oh why did I not stop the bus, or call out to him?

He turned to me and gave me a look. I couldn't decipher it as I held out my hand to stop 192 which came right after. My arm hung limply, half-ashamed I got to ride before him. Realistically, it was either a look of resentment thinking why on earth did I not let him know, or he is checking if I saw his defeat in hailing the bus. But only if he cares for me would he think the latter, which is like 5% of the chance where one would care for a complete stranger who is not homeless, or British, or pretty.

I still feel remorseful as I board the bus. I couldn't bear to look out of the window at him. I have a feeling he will need to wait quite a long time for the next one again. I felt horrid. I wished I could just have thought fast enough to pretend it was my bus and hail it. Then he would be thanking me and not hating me right now.

Walking home, the scene kept replaying in my head. I figured I could not have thought fast enough if I were to calculate all the risks of getting embarrassed or rejected if that was not his bus. I just did not have enough time. Or speed. I could only have done it if I knew it was the right thing to do, and done it at once because it was right. There was no time for drawing up back up plans. Maybe there was truth when people said 'kind people are stupid, stupid people are kind'. Giving an outstretched hand is sometimes way less complicated than you would think.

The cold night air caressed my hair as the wind rose.

Fashion sense

Finally I've worked out how to describe how I like to dress myself.

I like to dress/do my hair slightly crazy but normal enough for people who see me to allow a little possibility that it might be the newest fashion.

Expiry date

I stripped open the plastic of the tofuhua container. It proved more difficult than I thought as it split towards the end. As I tried to take the whole piece off, it struck me just how reluctant I was to eat it yesterday, but now I open it without hesitation. Why? because it is expiring today.

Deadlines, expiry dates. I have a thing for them. Not sure if it is a good thing though.

It always amazes me how I could finish 3 pages assignment in a day when the deadline is just a week away, but couldn't squeeze half a page out of my brain when it is still a month till it's due. Even though I know the results would definitely be better if I started writing earlier.

Why? because I had the choice. Today or tomorrow. Before or after an episode of drama. To do or not to do.

It is always when I had no choice, when I had to try my best, then I will. It is almost as if I had to be forced to do it. Don't get me wrong, I want to do it, but wanting is not a strong enough incentive for me to give my best. It is almost as if I am addicted to the adrenaline rush. Am I? I hope not.

Trash

120 comments on his post. He is going to Malta soon. He is in South Korea doing his placement in a prestigious university hospital. Congratulatory messages filled up the screen. People are happy for him. So happy. There is a saying that when people want you to succeed and succeed together with you, you are a successful person.

Here I am, laying on the couch in our student house with an impending 20-pages report to write but all I have done is watch variety shows this morning. It is 3pm now but I haven't eaten anything. I am not hungry, at least I don't feel it. I feel so tired but I can't sleep, guess lyrics are really from personal experiences sometimes.

Maybe he chose the right course to study. People love medics. Not only you have to be from a financially well-off family or you have to be brilliant enough for someone to fund your course which is double the length and annual fees compared to other courses, you need to have the brains and resilience to go through the gruelling medic school years. Well, or you don't. He does everything so well, he speaks Korean, plays the cello, runs etc. besides doing med school, it is almost as if he doesn't struggle at all. Stable job, good pay to come, what's to worry? If you think of life as an exam, he is a soaring unicorn oozing rainbow-colored poo.

So don't tell me it ain't true that whether I succeed or not matters to people. Because it doesn't. I could die right now and have a handful of people weeping, forgotten after a week or two. I see no hope in my country and no opportunity to stay. I thought companies here would appreciate me more but hey, no replies from BBC instinctively makes me withdraw my outstretched hand- perhaps I was wrong?