The Blue Bus is calling us

It is almost midnight and I’m singing along with all my vocal strength in my room……


I would listen to this song always in car rides when a dear friend, well; someone who was about to be my friend….died.

Yeah, since that I haven’t really been the same. But that was only a sign of my worsening mental condition.

I mean, I was just sitting before school one Wednesday back in the 8th grade and she sat next to me. Why? I still ask that same question as I did on that very minute. I didn’t have the best reputation….(I was too quiet, introverted, and unfriendly) and she had been the new girl in school and had already received a great deal of respect. So, why talk to me? I mean, was I….just there to talk to? Oh, I am over-thinking this.

Anyway, our conversation went smoothly. We opened up to each other and talked of teenage growing pains and our mothers having boyfriends and how they were so disrespectfully loud whenever they copulated with boys in our houses. We had a lot in common. We discussed our opinions….We talked about eighth grade prom and she told me she wanted to go….She had been wearing the dress….I even accompanied her to the bathroom and told her how much I loved her garment. It truly was pretty.

She was a pretty girl with a head of hazel small curls. She was charismatic with an admirable personality. She had style. I was thinking of being her friend since we had told mostly everything about our lives in just one morning.

But no….she died the week after that.

The last time I saw her was on a Monday….I was in a bad mood and was not in the best spirits to talk to people. I just looked at the girl and saw her silently sitting on a lunch table with the rest of my friends….I noticed she had recently taken a shower because her curls were as extra tiny and wet.

The next day was a Tuesday…and the first minute I came in my friends urgently told me someone had died. And it was her. Right then I didn’t feel anything. I couldn’t for a few days.

In first period, the principal delivered an announcement informing us the girl had died. I felt cold and quite frozen. Females were sobbing….boys quiet….and I just sat there….with dry eyes…without being able to look around the room. I could not thaw with emotion.

In the following periods….we discovered the news that she had died of a gunshot wound to the head….

My friends and I went to the counseling….Her closest friends were sobbing….

Then we went to counseling in the library….A girl there saw me and said, “Oh, I don’t want to be around her.”

In the sixth grade she had made fun of me because I still played with my Barbies. Thanks to her, a boy started calling me “weird Barbie girl”. That type of stuff never leaves one’s head, you know.

My other friend had reddened eyes with salty water….and I was drawing….and telling the counselor how quickly abrupt it all had been…..Getting to know someone one morning and then she dying afterwards…..

A few days later a trend was going around in school in which you had to wear blue neon tape on your clothing or backpack or whatever…in her honor….I get that we were in a period of mourning….But some kids were wearing that to look cool and that pissed me the hell off.

On maybe the day after Tuesday……school ended…..I saw my mother waiting for me outside….and I ran to her as she welcomed me in her arms. I had been wearing my black shades……

I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed.

And that went on for days. Even my best friend gave me a weird stare for being so emotional.

Well, what happened is that she had been murdered in her home. By her mother, who shot herself some minutes after.

I don’t know the reason why….but I know no one lives forever. I used to think that only happened in the movies or to aging celebrities…

But, we are mortal beings….and our time is counted in this existence…..and we can be gone so easily…even as young as fourteen years old.

Well, in her honor, I…..nonchalantly decided… attend 8th grade prom… her honor.

And I bought the dress.
And I bought the dress.

It was so so fun standing in the dance floor wearing that dress…. and being painted with makeup and wearing heels. Children were staring at me with open mouths. I did it all just for her.

The boy who she wanted to go with took another girl…..and I gave him a cold stare.

I stood there and did nothing. My mood was strangely high and jittery and my friends thought I was drunk. I was throwing my purse up in the air.

And that is how it was. Ever since I’ve cried more easily….and been prone to periods of depressive desperation. That’s just how I am.

I miss her and I hope she is fine wherever she is. Even though she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, I hope she is wearing that blue dress with the white polka dot in her afterlife. Oh, and did I mention that she saw Rihanna in concert?

And that is what one Doors song can make me think of. They help me express one sorrowful memory.

I’ll keep that dress until I am dead. I want to preserve her memory.

She was young like Laura Palmer.


10 thoughts on “The Blue Bus is calling us

    1. Exactly. I still think of her sometimes and realize that she’ll never experience anything that I am experiencing now. That is why I try to enjoy life while I live. We weren’t the closest friends but gosh I miss her.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. It is a beautiful story you wrote and an honor to the friend you had a short time. I love that Doors song. Thank you for sharing because it makes me feel less bad about my depression. –Paul


      1. The true great people take risks and are honest. You do that very well in your writing. That is what inspires people. Humans can tell the real thing. Your hard times have given you strength to do anything.

        Liked by 1 person

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