#40 Weary

There's a rap song that I love, and it has a line that goes, "There's no rest for the weary, just another day grinding up stones, till they turn into dust."

And I know too well that there's a Bible verse that goes like "Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest." (Or something like that.)

These past two or three weeks have been tiring. The only thing that's keeping me alive is probably the fear of taking my own life and end up executing a failed suicide which could lead to paralysis or an arrest by the police. And I know too well that my capability of still having that rational thought means one thing―I am still in control. I can still do this, I can still live and wait for a better day.

The thing is, in those past weeks, good things still happened. There were so many moments that made me feel loved and appreciated and acknowledged. But sometimes I find myself sitting on the bus and the thoughts come without warning, and I get angry and sad and shaky again.

With assignments all coming in, things are getting more and more tiring and I find myself sleeping at the oddest of hours, and I no longer have the chance to nap, and morning starts extra early on days when I have classes. And on days when I don't have classes, I still need to board a bus, head to college, and go for group discussions and practices, especially this one assignment on a play/theatre that seems like the highlight for this semester's assignments.

Our first practice began yesterday, which was a mixture of both a good and a bad day. I waited at the bus stop for nearly an hour, and the jam made it worst because cars moved slowly and it wasn't  a pleasant experience, sitting by the roadside while people stare at you as their cars crawl right in front of you. I played the alpha (-male?) stare game (that's what I call it), which is a game I invented when strangers give me a nosey stare. The rules of the game is simple: Stare back until they're the first to break the eye contact and embarrassingly look elsewhere as they realise they've been caught staring.

Two buses heading to the opposite direction (Serian) passed by and none came from Serian to Kuching. It was very frustrating, and that kind of gave me the understanding on why people don't want to become bus wankers. But as I sat there waiting, and the second bus from Kuching to Serian passed by, I got reminded again why being a bus wanker is fun. Because the second bus was driven by the Capman driver (I decided to name him Capman because he wears a cap all the time) and he did one thing that made me smile (my first smile of the day, again). I was there, across the road, and he was there, driving his bus, but he pointed at me and made that "A-ha, it's you!" face, and raised his hand at me. I waved at him and smiled, and I suddenly felt like I'm a certified passenger now.

The practice session was cool, and I brought my ukulele along because there's one scene in which I will be playing the ukulele with another coursemate. I used to say that ukuleles are like guitars for sissies, but right now I really enjoy playing it. It sounds a lot happier than guitars and some songs really sound better on it.

But as I arrived at the bus station to return home, my usual bus wasn't around, and there it was, that bus I boarded before my public speaking competition on Saturday (also the bus I have to unwillingly board whenever Capman isn't around). And the grumpyolddriver was there, and he stared at me, and I looked at him with my angsty teen glance. Because I really hate what he did to me last Saturday. As if enough shouts and words haven't hurt me enough throughout the week, and he added insult to injury. So I walked away, sat far from his bus and out of his sight, not caring that his bus would be the soonest to leave, because I'd rather wait for one or two hours for the next bus. I didn't want to see his face and allow him to speak harshly to me again.

So I ignored how that bus left the station at 4, and I was sitting there since 3.15, and I let my mind wander. I was there, in my hoodie, with my ukulele, and I didn't give a damn on how miserable I looked, because I didn't want to really head home, and I didn't really want to live anymore, and damn it, why is everything making me feel so weary. I can write this way because at the very moment I'm typing this down I think I feel a bit OK. But God knows how my feelings will change in the next hour.

Before 4 the bus I used to routinely hop on at 9am Tuesdays came. I call the driver the detacheddriver. He isn't friendly in any way at all, but I still prefer him than the grumpyolddriver. So I waited for the grumpyolddriver to leave, then board the detacheddriver's bus. I prayed hard that he wouldn't ask me why the heck did I purposely refuse to leave on a bus that had just left, instead of sitting there like an idiot wasting time, but he's so detached, he doesn't ask those kind of questions. I napped for a while until the bus finally moved half an hour later.

I was still feeling shitty. But as we stopped at SGH, a pleasant surprise came. A senior from Intec boarded the bus! Out of so many other days, other times, and other places! I swear I felt like crying. It was damn good, damn comforting to look into the eyes of a familiar person who just shines with compassion. We didn't get to talk for long, because she got off a few stations away, but it felt very life-saving because there's that single person who stared into your eyes and asked you how you're doing and it felt damn good to say that word calmly, full of acceptance, that word, that phrase of "I got terminated," and I realised that that no longer contributed to the baggage on my shoulders, but other things are.

And I watched closely on how she carried herself and presented herself to the world, and I realise once again how perhaps we preach too much. Because the way she got off the bus, and said thank you to the driver, her tone, the volume of her voice, the way she gave a pat on my back before she left, it made me rethink of the thoughts I had the previous day―about the sufferings and weariness in this world, and how it's not surprising that some people lose their faith. Because her actions, the words she said to me, it just kept me thinking that if Jesus was there on the bus, he'd be smiling at her.

And I felt empty again when I was left alone. But the brief unexpected meeting left a huge impact on me. I reached home feeling terrible, but the coincidence got me thinking that there is something in this world worth living for.

I never expected my final quarter of this year would end this way. During the first three quarters I was very optimistic and happy. But now, with only less that 7 weeks away until the new year, some days just make me feel weary.

Today's been tiring as well. But I had fun singing and playing guitar and ukulele before and during the practice. And I hopped on the peaceful 8am ride which I really really love. And I returned home on my usual bus, and although I presented myself terribly on that bad day I planned to hop a ride to Serian (the driver laughed as I asked him whether I could ride to Serian then back again―to which he added that isn't possible because he won't be leaving Serian until the next morning), I think I have overcome the embarrassment, and when I paid my fare and when I said thanks as I got off the bus, he answered me nicely so I guess he had seen far worse things than a college student sulking throughout a ride and darting out of a bus in the heavy rain. Sadness and anger can make you do foolish things.

I don't know what tomorrow may bring. Each day I live with a certain worry playing in my head, and sometimes I'm suddenly angry when I really don't want to feel angry. And sometimes I try my best to get myself feel angry but I feel calm instead. It's really tricky. There's no other way I can describe the thing without opening up too much and telling the whole world something a bit too personal. And that got me thinking too, the fact that other people who I've met today also hide a certain problem that's too personal for them to tell others, and that also means they're hiding some pain and anger and frustration too, and that thought alone makes me think I'm not the only one with worries and fears.

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