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Romantics don't belong on F buses

<p>The Rutgers bus system is known for many feats, but rarely is it considered the ideal grounds for desperate dreamers.</p>

The Rutgers bus system is known for many feats, but rarely is it considered the ideal grounds for desperate dreamers.


I do the same thing every time I hop onto any Rutgers bus: I step quietly on and let my eyes gaze onto each face that I see before me, looking intently at strangers and quietly falling in love with each one of them. 

I have this strange habit of constantly imagining and reimagining experiences with these random people I’ve never met. I try to notice every small thing about them — the way hands clasp at bright book bags, the small smiles at cell phones and millions of other almost unnoticable mannerisms. 

Sometimes it takes me entire days to shake off this feeling that one of those faces on any one of those buses was somehow made for me to pursue. The “what-ifs” circle around my brain. What if I had just talked to them? What if I had complimented those small things I noticed?

The timeless character Syndey Carlton from Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities" describes the way I feel about these Rutgers bus daydreams best: "A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down..." 

It wasn’t always like this for me. Only sophomore year as a Rutgers student can give me the audacity to do anything on the Rutgers buses, besides sitting quietly and praying I get to class on time.

Now every passing EE or LX bus is just a new adventure of different faces, a place where my imagination can toy with an infinite supply of scenarios. 

More than anything, I can attribute this strange pattern to a result of an adolescence filled with the eager consumption of Young Adult novels. Authors whose very names make me roll my eyes now — like John Green or Suzanne Collins — are those mainly responsible for this curse.

I used to tell my friends about the sandy-haired boys in white turtlenecks on LX buses, but they soon grew tired of my unceasing loves and lost track of who was who. Honestly, so did I. 

Only time will tell what really becomes of this strange and sobering hobby. I’ve grimly accepted the fact that most likely nothing will ever happen between me and my newly acquired loves I’ve conjured from countless daydreams. 

Yet, the great beauty in slipping in and out of quiet daydreams is that there's freedom in the idea that nothing goes beyond the barriers of my own mind. But I wouldn't diminish these experiences as "unreal." Haven't we seen enough cheesy blockbusters that tell us the mind is capable of great things? Just because it happens in the realms of a bored imagination on a bus doesn't mean it doesn't happen at all. 

Perhaps falling in love so quickly and falling out of love even faster makes me too emotionally spent to find someone to love forever. 

Or maybe it prepares me for something that’s out there, greater, waiting beyond Rutgers buses or even Rutgers itself. 

Life is fleeting, and even if collecting faces on buses won’t amount to much of anything, it might just be the difference between appreciating things as they come and letting moments pass you by without a second thought. 

To all my LX lovers and Brower boyfriends: I love you, I love you, I love you. 


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