Mini-travelogue

As I was waiting FOREVER for the VIVA bus to leave the Newmarket Station, I had way too much time to think.

"Do I want a different life so that I can be a mother?" I thought. "Do I want a different life at all?" My defence to the protests in my head was "I don't want babies I want my baby."

Some stupid teenagers (I sound so old! "Those damn kids!") got on talking about stupid things with stupid accents. You know the accent I'm talking about, the stupid teenage girl accent. I started repeating a melody with these words: "Her stupid little jacket, and her stupid big boots, her whole outfit could pay my rent."

Then I tried not to be so bitter about the world.

But those girls were pretty stupid.

Then I noticed I was sitting next to someone from my high school who I didn't know really well, but I knew enough about. A very reserved, so-called goth. A girl who hated my born again friends and practiced wicca. Her hair was covering her face as if she were determined to be Alison from the Breakfast Club. I wondered what she ever thought of me, if she knew about me. I hung around a lot with the born again who she hated the most, she must have known something about me...

Her boyfriend--or creepy magical slave--made me a CD once and game me his number. I wondered if she knew. I mostly wondered if she was really a witch!

Then when I got a really good look at her, I realised it wasn't her.

I resigned myself to the fact that no productive thoughts would enter my mind, so I just went to sleep.