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Toilet of a gas station

It's dark and gloomy Sunday afternoon of December. I'm driving to home after a weekend trip.

The trip was cheery. I saw friends who I rarely see. I'm feeling still a bit sad. I have friends but I'm still lonely.

There's still about one hundred miles to home. I have to stop to a gas station for a defecation. There's a bad feeling in my stomach.

I park my car as near the doors as possible. But I still need to walk hundred meters. I won't let that depress me down.

Once inside I find quickly a men's room and start my session. Almost immediately I notice texts on the walls. I become curious. And I'm not in a hurry right now.

First, I see a couple of longer texts written with a ballpoint pen. I pass by them and move on to a next one. Its title is "You".

"You. That's a neat word. Like an arrow pointing from me to you or a blaming finger. For you you is me. Personally. It's a relative concept. It doesn't mean anyone particular but someone next to you. We can see every persons as you. And every yous mistakes and behaviour differently as our own. That's why everybody should see themselves through other's eyes. While looking at a mirror the arrow kind of changes a direction and me becomes you for a while. But you can not take the mirror with you so that you could see your behaviour as other persons see it in every situations. With a video recorder you could handle it. But where to get a personal cameraman? So, imagine a personal mirror for you. Try to see yourself as others see you."

After reading the text I start think about its message. There's said in an interesting way a thought that could be a maxim. Like it reminds to consider yourself and behaviour from other people's point of view. The text is actually a genius message to people. I'm jealous for who ever wrote it.

I find a next text. It's quite short written with a black thick marker pen. And that too has a short one world title "Fuck".

"I had a big dream once over ten years. Then a woman came into my life. Now I don't have either one. Fuck. I might hang myself."

The last sentence of the message makes me give a laugh quickly. Then I quiet down and listen if anybody heard that. There seems to be nobody in the men's room.

I think I understand the writer's sense of humor and I assume the text is more like a self-irony black humor than written seriously. I really hope it is like that. I won't think about that any further since my curiosity demands to move on.

I pass by quickly all the usual "fuck yous" and other similar useless messes. And find next text with more content.

Next one is also short but more deeply description of our globe written with a black thin marker pen.

"I look over a filthy highway and rusty old railroad to a lake. I crop the highway and the railroad out of the picture. So I modify the truth and say: "Our world is so beautiful"."

How can anyone compress a twisted ugliness in such beautiful words. The writer of the text must be some sort of a novelist or at least an amateur writer.

I stop here and think of the text. I read it again couple of times. It gets a whole new, more deep meaning. It reminds in its clever way the reader how no one should ever forget the injustice and bad actions which are laying in shadows of our beautiful world.

I have now read all the short texts. There's only a few longer texts left. Both written with a ballpoint pen. A handwriting seems to be a same. Maybe written by a regular customer of the gas station. I'm still not in a hurry so I start reading from the first one named as A dream.

"Where are you, the one? I miss you so much next to me to share my life with you. I write this with your cute face in my mind. It's so shame I don't know anything about you. I want to know everything about you! I want you. I want to do everything that makes you happy. I want to hug and cuddle you. I close my eyes and I can almost feel you with my hands. There might be a small smile on my lips. You make it. Then I open my eyes and puff! You are gone. I got back from my dreams to reality. What a dissappointment! I don't know you. You weren't there in front of me. But a smile was quickly on my lips. That I haven't seen for a while. So this kind of dreaming must be good for my mental health. If only thinking of you makes me feel this way what would happen if the dream became true? Would the smile stay on my lips? That would be great. So, where are you, the one?"

Oh, how beautiful love longing message. I could identify to this myself as a lonely single guy. I sigh. I really could identify to this.

It seems like the writer has already met someone but he does not know her closer yet. I hope him good luck from bottom of my heart. I hope the same to myself too.

There's another text written with the same handwriting and the similar ballpoint pen like it was an extension for the previous one. It has a different title: "Torturing shyness".

It starts with: "You are cute. So cute. And you have a nice ass too." At this point I smile a little. The writer has some sense of humor left. So I carry on.

"I would like to get to know you better. Would you be the one I'd like to meet? I would like to share my whole life with you. I have a problem. And that's my infinite shyness. It's so strong everytime I see you. I'm too afraid to say anything to you because of it. And because you are so cute. Where's this shyness coming from? Psychologists perhaps explains it because what has happened in my earlier life where I became rejected. This is so true in my case. Although, I might've behaved weirdly only because of my shyness. I'm afraid I've behaved weirdly or even stupid in front of you already. And only because of the damn shyness of mine. Next time I could try to say something to you. Or try to smile to you. Hopefully it won't become an ugly grimace or any other stupid looking face. What on earth could I try to say to you? Would an ask to a movie be a cliché? Or for a coffee in somewhere in down town? Would you go with me? I've noticed I keep thinking of you all the time once I saw you in a grocery store. I might have crushed on you. That sounded so nice. In the same time a little bit scary since I don't know if we ever meet. Your cute face and smart behaviour pops up in my mind everytime I think about these things. There it goes back to my shyness like in a loop. There's always these same questions in the air. Maybe I just pull myself up and try to ask you to see a movie, no matter how cliché it is. But. Where are you? When can I get a chance to talk to you? I hope it's not too late then. And if we ever meet again, do I remember these thoughts anymore? I'm at the begining with all the same question again. The loop has come to its start again. I sigh. You are cute. So cute."

This text seems pretty similar with the previous one. Maybe written at about the same time. Or even at the same session. I would like to answer to the questions but I can't. A question comes to my mind. Am I also cursed with a similar shyness? Other reason why I can't answer to the writer is that I don't have a pen with me.

With all the texts in my mind I stand up and wear my pants back on. I put down a toilet cover and flush the toilet. I'm a housebroken man.

I walk back to my car with mixed thoughts. Although, in much positive sense even there's still dark and gloomy outside.

I feel like I had seen an awesome movie. Although, it took only five minutes. Ten tops. I smile shortly and drive away.


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