kenyon

The bus groans around the corner, so bright school-yellow I could wretch. One enormous tire winds to a halt right in front of me. I smell its black rubber. A few heads swivel toward us, their breath blurring the window glass, and the accordion door stamps open.

public school sucked so hard. all twelve + years of it. i was so little, hunched over a bowl of cheerios in the dark early morning by myself, like i was actually headed off to somewhere important. what a sad, trying, protracted event. i made a few good friends is about all the good i can say for that bullshit. what the fuck was i thinking.