Life - Mel Afoa

We are riding in a big, blue bus.

The music is pumping, hard and powerful, its rhythmic beats mixing with the sound of laughter. Thirty girls are making noises, loud conversations sweetening the soft summer air. The weather outside is picturesque, the blue blanket on top decorated with small, white bundles of clouds. The evergreen trees are whizzing past as the bus speeds through the M4. Cheers and laughter fill the bus, and nature wraps around the school windows.

There's a girl at the front of the bus, expression sullen and plain. She is alone in a two-seater, no music to comfort her, no-one to keep her company. She looks out at the window and sees a cemetery whiz past. Funny enough, the whole bus joins her in silent as the cemetery brings on feelings of depression and sad emotions. When the sad place goes, so does the silence.

She looks out of the window again. It's just tunnels; endless roads. She decides to look at the different shapes, the different sizes. She sees trucks drive past, speeding against the bus like a robber on the run. 'Slow down' and 'warning' signs are overcome as the bus drives through the lanes of the heavy road. Nature still whizzes past, and only the bright, blue sky is her comfort.
There are conversations in the air. Girls around her are talking and laughing about shared memories. Music is in the air, and the subtle tire screeches fill the world.
She's wondering why life closed on her. Why the cuts on her arm are not painful cuts, but painful memories. She looks around her. Love, friendship, happiness. She looks back at her hands. No one acknowledges her presence or even cares for her pain.

The music pumps, as loneliness comes and sits next to her as the bus whizzes past the M4.