Moving On

moving on

Did you ever notice how the seats on the bus that face the opposite direction of motion can only allow you to see the images a bit later than the forward facing seats? And did you know that passengers on these different seats never actually see the same image or experience the same feeling?

When you sit facing forward you’re never really surprised with the images that come by. you see them coming and then you move on.
But there is something excruciatingly tragic about taking the other seat, the one that continues to look back at things that have already happened and watches them fade away.
I think I have taken this seat this entire time because I haven’t seen you coming, I have only watched you slip away.

You had appeared into my life like a series of images on a highway; quick and unexpected. But as the bus kept moving forward there was nothing I could do but to sit there with wistful ache and stare helplessly at the opposite direction to a painful and long-lasting image of you slowly slipping out of reach.

I had romanticized this seat for a very long time thinking that if I continued to look back then you might catch my glance and I would be able to see you come back to me.
Of late I have come to comprehend the grave mistake of sitting and looking back with wishful thoughts; these quick passing images cannot be controlled or changed – all you could ever do is sit through the insufferable agony of watching someone go in the opposite direction of you.
And so sometimes as I sit with my head on that window I catch myself thinking that if had chosen the other seat then maybe I would have avoided living through a durable despair and that somehow… I would have moved on too. And you… well.. you would have been a blur instead of a perpetual memory.

 

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