shattered white (1)

 <shattered white>

    The fluorescent lights of the bus station kept me up, but sleeping on a bench is not always ideal anyway. In my stalemate with my self-diagnosed insomnia, thoughts are translucent and my comprehension of the past, and likewise the future, has been at the all time low. I don't remember how I got to this bus station. I don't know where I am going to go next. 

    Aimless is a word that comes to mind. Life consists only of my responses to external stimuli. I leave no footprint on this earth, yet I am an overtrodden path. Now, struggle dominates. A struggle to understand where I am, who I am, and what I could be. First, I need to understand my location. 

    The bus station isn't too big, and only one apathetic employee is working at the booth. Looking outside the window, it is not exactly night. More of a prelude to a quiet morning. The stars are out against an awakening dark blue as the sun slowly rises above a large grass plain. I too rise up from the bench, blood rushing down from my head to the rest of my body, nearly making me lose balance. 

    I pick up what might be all of my worldly belongings: a duffle bag filled with dirty underwear, a sketchbook, travelling documents, and a few books I've read a million times over. The rest of my possessions I wear, including my father's watch he wore during the war. Carrying all my worth, I exit the bus station, a bell above the door alerting the now sleeping employee of my departure.

    "Have a good day."

        I walk out into the world with a realization of the beauty that surrounds me. Visible light slowly increases as the sun peaks through the snow-capped mountain tops of a range I do not have the name of. The sky is a gradient of a quiet purple to a wakeful orange, somehow complementing each other in a subtle way. The grass plain that stretches in front of the bus station is covered in a frost that could be mistaken for snow. I look at the highway in front of me. Two lanes, one going east and one going west. I sit on the side, awaiting for some car to pass by. Wherever they are going will ultimately determine which direction I will find myself. I close my eyes, and I hear a distant engine.