The Room

Written by: MARKEZZACKUI

 

I had no concept of where I was getting off; I just knew that I wanted to go. I sat near the front of the bus, on one of the side seats. Just within earshot of the bus driver. Not really wanting to talk, but hoping he would strike up conversation anyhow. I felt lonely. Not to mention confused, scared, and indecisive. I wanted a way out, a fast exit... I needed a change of scenery, desperately. Something was wrong.

 

The bus was half-empty, or half-full to the annoying optimistic (which I usually am). Today, I was not smiling. I sat hunched. I craved attention... a pat on the back, some show of affection to remind me I was still human. The thought of calling mom came to mind, but I quickly dismissed the thought. She always had the answers and I mean always. In my heart I knew she meant well, but I didn't want answers. I just wanted to be heard, understood, and comforted. I was vulnerable and very near another bout with King Vodka and his sneaky mistress—snow white—Queen of Darkness. The weight of them both on my shoulders kept me hunched. I was a mess. Spiritually bankrupt.

 

“MOVE!" The lady sitting two seats back yelled out the window, reminding me that if it weren't for bad luck I wouldn't have any. I was a magnet for the crazies and wasn't sure how much more of her blurting out I could stand before I got off the bus. I was irritable and near volatile. King Vodka was sounding more and more appealing. Sweat was beginning to bead on my forehead and the tip of my nose.

 

"MOVE OUT!" Lady Crazy had done it again. The blurting was pushing me closer to the edge. Why hadn't the bus driver done anything about her? I wanted my money back. My pity party was in full swing now.

 

I looked at the other passengers. Two young kids in the back of the bus, squirmy and giggling, were locking eyes with me. I returned the giggle half-heartedly. I wasn't feeling very funny. I noticed another passenger. A Goth. Black nails, black trench coat, black lipstick, black eyeliner, and, to top it off… a black iPod. Good! I thought… someone who understands. I wondered what he was listening to on his iPod. Whatever it was had his undivided attention because he paid no attention to his surroundings. We didn't matter.

 

How cool. If only I could learn that trick, I'd tune out for fucking ever! So, after what seemed like hours of riding with the blurting lady, the two gigglers and my silent friend with the iPod, whom I trusted for some reason, I rung the bell for the next stop.

 

My friend in all black got off the bus with me and moved quickly to the left and walked with a quickened pace... leaving me. Some friend he turned out to be. I had pushed yet another person out of my life. Where was the liquor store when you needed it?! I peered across the valley and a desolate building seemed to be calling me. By name, no less. The doors to the bus had closed and the bus finally pulled off. I headed towards the building and as the bus pulled off, I heard the lady speak again, but this time the voice was very soothing: "Move out of your own way young man. Move forward. Listen to thy heart. Be it true." (Comfort)

 

Was she a poet? I wasn't sure what made her think I'd follow her advice. She reminded me a little of mom. Here I was in the middle of nowhere and mom still had the answers. Incredible! Impossible...

 

Right before I entered the building, a woman crossed paths with me in an elegant purple shawl. She handed me a pair of binoculars and rubbed my back with assurance, compelling me to move forward. (Understanding)

 

The building became more and more intriguing as I got closer. The door to the building was cracked just enough to peak my curiosity. Was this an invite? Vulnerable and lonely, I walked in and found a mid-sized room blanketed in curtains. The floor was covered in a thick maroon carpet, silencing my footsteps, yet wasn't soft at all. In fact, it was incredibly stiff, like steel. In the middle of the room sat a microphone and treasure chess with a gold key protruding from the keyhole. I inched towards the treasure chess, turned the key, and lifted the lid, not sure what to expect. A treasure maybe? Hopefully! Instead, I found a rolled up piece of paper. (If not for bad luck, I wouldn't have any.) I unrolled the paper and read it to myself. There were directions written in a slanted handwriting... It looked familiar.

 

Close the door.
Pull back the curtains.

 

I followed the directions. When I closed the door, the carpet disappeared. It was a mirage. In its place, a mirror. Now, I could watch every step I took. Great. Just what I needed. I pulled the draw string for the curtains and low and behold... more mirrors! The ceiling included. Everywhere I looked, there I was. Every facet of me! When I looked to the left, I was logical. When I looked to the right, I was fearful. When I looked up, I questioned. Hopeful. When I looked down, I was stern. When I looked straight ahead, I was sure. I sat on the mirror which was my floor, took out pen and notepad and began writing. And, boy, could I write! It wouldn't stop. Each time I looked at a different mirror, a different feeling captivated me, creating another piece of writing. Drawn to the microphone, I began to quote my writing and I was my very own audience. I liked the way I moved and the way I sounded. (Attention)

 

I was having a ball!
Finally!
My creativity had been reborn!!

 

In retrospect:

 

I looked at my bus ride a little differently. Lady Crazy... wasn't crazy at all. She was the voice of direction... guiding me to my next stop. Without her... the discovery was impossible. She was an intricate part of my process. A thread of life. The two gigglers, giggled with the excitement of me becoming a force to be reckoned with. By me discovering my creativity... later they would discover theirs. They needed me to be me. Kid Goth, as fate would have it, was my only neighbor. His room was a total contrast to his appearance. His room was full of lights. Sometimes, just for kick and thrills, he opened his door and I opened mine. His lights shone off my mirrors out into the sky creating a constellation of stars. We complimented each other. Friends. The lady who handed me the binoculars gave them to me so that I could see my place in the universe... reminding me that, indeed, I was accepted. I later found out mom wrote the note. She never had the answers… She wanted me to discover them for myself. (Faith) As for the bus driver… well… that guy takes on many forms. (My silent cries had been heard after all.)

 

Afterthought:

 

On peaceful nights... while the crickets sing their precious melody... I pull out my binoculars and gaze at the other stars and constellations, others who have found their rooms. This story is dedicated to anyone who expresses themselves through written, verbal or visual art and chooses to share that art with the world.

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