If you miss the train I'm on, you'll know that I am gone.

Theres too much action happening everywhere and right in the middle of all that I sometimes simply wish to stand still and stand still some more. And give a tired smile, just like the one I give random people I don't even know. I'v seen a lot of bloodied pictures that'v made me flinch back. I'm supposed to sound intelligent and talk about human rights in some godforsakensuffering country. And so, to me it seems like i'm cashing on the agony of someone else. To get a nice bright-looking grade. My good old mother is miffed cause I'v asked her to not care so much for me. She won't talk. I'v slept little. And i fear am going to join the stick-figure club soon. I'v met a lot of new people and I feel a bit lost and disoriented. I'm amazed at how good I am at getting over things/people. I never knew. Its easy and simple, for me. Its not really the best thing, they say. I feel colourful. I feel pretty. I feel wanted. I feel missed. I feel happy. And if that isn't it, you'r making me feel special. I know it ain't going to last, but whattheheck. I want you to not believe me when I say I have nothing/no one on my mind. Please dont. I genuinely fall for each of your scribblings. You don't find people who write things for their mothers. And, admit it. You do and that I think is nice. Someday I wish to glue your photograph under the honey-coated-muffins section of my scrapbook. Oh and, I have been thinking typing erasing a bit too often. Must be the writers block phase? Makes me sound important. I hate it. So, I'm down with writers block syndrome. I'm leaving on a jet plane don't know when I'll be back again...