Journals | Shaylor

O n e

When I was young, well I was a little around four my dad left me and took my younger brother with him. We were actually twins. Now I'm living with my mom and younger sister. We aren't the happiest family and it's probably because we're all split up.

See, my mom and I are the Caniff's while my little sister has a different last name, my step dad's last name. I was closer to him than my actual father. He left as soon as my sister was born. She's currently four, so that makes him gone for that long. We both had our fathers leaving us at the same age. This is why my sister and I are so close, holding our mom up because she's ran out of strength.

Right now, I'm seventeen and a complete wreck. I just want to find something in my life that will make me happy, wanting something to wake up and look forward to. That's never going to happen.

I act obnoxious and overreact a lot only because it covers up for how depressed I am. It's rare for people to see my real feelings and the deep side of me.

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It's a Thursday around 7:38 pm. Sundown. I'm going back to the bus, walking away from the little hangout spot I have to myself. Once again, there that boy was. He was leaning against the pole that the stops have to show bus routes.

This would be the eight time in two weeks. I saw him maybe three times this week alone though.

He accidentally caught me staring. That's when I panicked and pretended to be looking at the bus route sign.

My bandana was in the way so I lifted it up but it was uncomfortable. I took it off, struggling though. I guess I was worried about it falling off that I made an extreme knot that was made it hard to detach.

"Sweetie let me help you." said this one lady in her late fifties. She was with her granddaughter I'm assuming. So only four people at this bus stop, eh.

"Boy I always see you on this bus stop. Every other night. I'm usually not here on Thursdays, more towards the beginning of the week." I let her go on talking then thanked her for untying my bandana.

"Mondays are crowded, maybe that'd why I don't see you here. Thank you anyways. My name is Taylor." I told her.

She left us to an awkward silence for about three minutes.

"So are you two friends?" she said pointing at me and the other guy back and forth. He just shook his head no.

Still leaning against that pole. He had a big bag, I don't want to keep staring but I was really curious.

The headlights of the bus arrived.

"Um you first, umm?.." I told told the lady, who's name I never received.

"I'm Iris Rene. This is my granddaughter Ruth." she introduced politely.

The bus was dead today. We all scattered separate ways. I went to the very back, Iris and Ruth on the left, leaving big bag boy somewhere in the front.

I hate writing on the bus, it makes my writing seem so sloppy.

Suddenly, the bus driver made a dramatic break leaving my journal and papers falling out of my lap and scattering all over the bus floor.

I was on my knees picking up the individual papers on the floor scattered everywhere.

Iris tried to help but I told her not to, she was an elder and I just didn't want her to straight up. Ruth picked up some papers around her seat.

As I took the papers away from Ruth, thanking her at the same time, I was still on my knees. I used my hands to guide myself and crawl a little further until I grasped on someone's shoe.

It was the stranger. I looked up over to him as he handed my book over to me.

Our eyes locked. "Thank you." I said quietly as he turned around nodding.

Does he always nod and shake his head?

I was too stunned to crawl back so I end up sitting behind Iris and Ruth.

Stunned that my papers went flying recklessly everywhere and by the boy finally acknowledging me after seeing him eight times already.