Bus Glamour

I happen to be located quite far from my school, so really my only solution is to ride the bus. Now the bus I describe isn't your regular "made for students only" kind of bus, it's the city bus, in a busy city. And whenever I ride it I am tense in apprehension, to escape this small town to a world of freedom and and an abundance of the sad along with the open-minded. The strangest people ride. Young men who walk with swagger dressed in over sized suits, poorly accustomed to their personal air. Old ladies who have rainbows in their hair and in their eyes. You see men who smell of an assortment of a thousand different things from chocolate to leather to squash. And due to all these facts plus the bus giving me the ability to travel anywhere I would like to my hearts content, I am quite taken with it. But like in any big city, there are a lot of sad people too. People who go to work in the morning and come home at night, and do this on repeat for the rest of their lives. People who don't have anywhere to go, and smelling worse than the sweet tears of Jesus, no one will let them in. Young people who don't know what they're doing and tell themselves that they will make it big someday, if they continue this job they don't like and... they lie to themselves... But worst of all are not these things which I have listed to you with a greatly saddened heart, it is the fact that these people don't even think of the bus as an attraction in their busy lives. I am fascinated with the bus, I board onto the buses and stare out the passing windows leaving my horrible little town behind with excitement equal to a child's. I look around and at the people who surround me with eyes as wide as saucers, a smile to match on my face. But I am alone in this experience of bus glamour, and I do not have anyone to share my happiness with. They have become bored. They show signs of being hugely let down. And that is the worst isn't it? When the world isn't what you thought it to be, when it has lost the potential you thought it to hold and now you are only bored and sad. And the bus people stare at me, they could stare at the lady in a dress made of a thousand diamonds or at the goth man standing in the corner but they look upon me. Because they have forgotten what it is to be a child, and along with that they have forgotten what happiness in a child is like. They stare at me because it is rare to find childlike happiness in people who are not children. And when they stare at me with their sunken eyes, I stare back, and see the sadness and hopelessness throughout it all, and I am forced to wonder when the bus will lose its glamour to me.