It’s very easy: either you’re pretty or you’re nice. You can be pretty and nice, but never ugly and arrogant. It’s how it works. That’s why I am nice. If I were pretty I would totally be a bitch. A really good one, like those bitches who rule everywhere and are admired, eventhough they treat everyone bad. Some people haven’t yet understood this rule.
Well, there is this huge girl in my college. She looks like a puffed up pig. Her best friend is a very narcissistic gay guy, who always looks like he’s got to pee. They always disturb classes, talk basically bullshit and make me feel embarrassed. Anyways, I think you got my point. I used to drive to college by car, complaining about the traffic and annoyed by the crowded parking lots. Since I left my husband, I’m back on my feet. Everyday I go to the bus stop and wait for the crowded bus. I’ve tried to take the bus at 5, at 6, at 7, it’s always crowded. So I just accepted the fact and stopped worrying about it.
Recently I got on the bus, and guess who was standing exactly in the only tiny space left for me to squeeze in? The puffed up pig! I held my heavy bag tight, and asked her politely to go a few steps further, so I could get more space to put my feet on the ground. She ignored me. Bitch. The bus halted on the next bus stop and two more people managed, I really don’t know how, to get in. Now I was stuck. Her huge butt was cobbling on mine. I was surrounded by her butt and, she was slightly shaking it in the rythm of the songs she was listening to on her I-pod. Disgust overcame me. I tried to get away from the thing, but there was no space. I tried to stop breathing, and looked around desperately. Nobody realised I was getting rubbed by the puffed up pig’s arse.
Self-pity hit me instantly.
Why?
Why was this happening to me?
Why did I have to take this bloody bus to my stupid college and undergo this physical contact with parts of people’s bodies I wish I’d never seen? What did I do to deserve this? Crowded busses full of ugly people, I was so tired, my body aching from the heavy bag and a long day full of work, my feet losing the ground everytime the bus hit a whole on this fucking Brazilian street? I was drowning in self pity, remembering my life in Germany, where people don’t touch each other, the streets are perfect and I take my Dad’s car whenever I want it.
Then I saw him. In the dark, barefoot looking up the hill. Holding firmly two crutches, the skinny, black man looked up and I could hear him sighing. He had to walk a long way to get up the hill. Barefoot, with a broken leg, holding firmly the crutches he went on. One step. Another step. I looked around. The bus didn’t look so crowded now, people weren’t that ugly and suddenly I didn’t feel tired anymore.
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