Screaming At The Past

I was now Harper Bryson, dressed in bright orange shorts that rode up my butt, a white ribbed tank top that showed everything underneath, which was the fact that I was wearing no bra, and I had a bandanna over my short hair; it was covered in peace signs and smiley faces. My love beads - all umpteen of them - flowed over my chest. I looked like a young hippie headed for a music festival.
The taxi dropped me and my luggage (a suitcase, a black satchel, and my pillow) off at the Greyhound bus station. This time I wasn't going to hitchhike. This time I wasn't going to fail.
I bought my ticket to Miami for around sixty dollars, and took a seat to wait. The bus wasn't leaving for a few hours. I had time to kill, and nothing to kill it with. Striking up a conversation with a couple of friendly young men, I found out that they were self identified beach bums who slept on the beach, and bummed money off of people to buy food, cigarettes, booze, and drugs. We talked for quite a long time, which definitely kept the boredom at bay. An older gentleman sitting across from me seemed to think that since I was a hippie, and I won't deny that I looked like one, that shrooms must be my thing. He gave me a pewter shroom necklace that I promptly put on, and I began to write him a thank you note.
I felt very nervous, and very paranoid. I thought that everyone was watching me and that I was being followed. I kept my back to the security guards, and kept my face down. I put my cell phone on the floor beside me so that I could 'lose' it...but once I was in line to get on the bus, one of my new friends gave me my cell phone back. And so I promptly snuck over to the trash can and dropped it in.
After boarding the bus, I began walking to find a seat, and a man began to make lurid faces and gestures at me. I wanted him to sit next to me. I thought that he would make me feel good.
After a few years of experiencing myself in these states of mind, I find that the only times that I become a sexual being at all in regards to others is when I am mentally unstable or unwell. When this happens I am extremely manic, psychotic, and oversexualized. When I am healthy and mentally stable, I am calm, a non sexual being, and not at all the same person. You would hardly recognize me.
I took a window seat, and a gentleman sat next to me. I use the word gentleman very pointedly here. During the long, laborious ride in the dark, he did not attempt to touch me once. He shared his box of Captain Crunch Berries with me; and I was famished. We talked a reasonable amount, he was
possibly the only person I met on the misadventure that had no angle.
I slept a bit, and it was probably the only peaceful sleep I'd get for a long time, even if it was short.
This is all so hard for me to fathom; when I remember these memories, it is as though I am seeing them from the outside, as though I am a stranger to my own life. And yet I must accept that the bus has just reached Miami. I have only just gone to get my luggage. I've paid for another cab.
Oh god no...why...
Why did I do this? I look at myself and scream "Turn around now! Don't do this."

But I can't scream at the past. I can't stop it from happening. It's already been done. I got into that cab in Miami. And I rode it to Biscayne and 71st street.