I’ve been on this bus for five minutes – my seat barely warm, yet boredom is already setting in. Usually I rely on my phone to pass the time, taking entertainment from status updates that I would otherwise ignore.
Today my phone is dead; what else to expect from a typical iPhone battery life. So instead I’m left with pen and paper. I try to concentrate on writing something of worth, although I don’t exactly know what ‘of worth’ is. I keep staring at the blank page hoping that the pen in my hand will somehow magically create a novel.
I try to write about my day, hardly anything interesting. My sloppy handwriting is barely legible, almost as bad as a doctors. My pen is doing all the talking and my mind is far behind, desperately trying to catch up. Instead my focus is on everything else that’s happening around me.
People talking from every angle, in different languages and different volumes. Lights being dragged along the window as the bus driver pushes the speed limit. Metal music so loud that it is heard muffled through a pair of cheap earphones and the smell of cheese and onion crisps. All sensory overloads that I have adjusted to.
This bus is full of people. It’s expected at rush hour. Yet somehow I have managed to find some serenity during these busy moments. Finding distraction with different senses and diverting my brain from overthinking about what’s happening in my own life.