Hello.
Today was a really hot day. I had left my trusty little novel at home and had much newfound free time. I decided to join the horde of desk prisoners in their daily adventure - stare blankly at the nothingness.

With buzzing music plugged on, I watched flicking sunbeams flood the train and pierce passengers near the glass windows whenever it could. I think its funny how everyone on the train was just waiting. Waiting for? It seems they are waiting for something more than just their destination. In their daily short waits, they pre-occupy themselves with some thing or some thought to distract themselves; places to go, datelines to meet, sunlight to shield, books to read, dreams to dream.

I was in their system as well. Standing, balancing and thinking with Chantal Kreviazuk in the background, the gentle piano and her country voice made me see translucent pictures: oddly shaped hills, shady trees, chopped grass, paper planes and a handful of yellow and red candy.

I feel lost in this familiar background. I realized I have been feeling lost for quite sometime already. I started to question myself if I was in the correct place at all. I realized this wasn't right, the spot I stood on, the place I am going to, the things I am doing, the faceless people around me. I am not at home. I think about home. My home. But I am not at home. When will I be able to go home? When will I feel at home? Maybe it's tomorrow, maybe later, maybe never. No, never never. Never say never. Later is better.

But how late?

On my way back, a workmate (who is not to be named) was complaining to me about her day. I was complaining to myself about how weird my feet were; they look like eager bastards racing towards a known-unknown destination. I guess it is late and I am tired. Very tired. And very bored.

I think I need to travel. Or just do something crazy. Or else I'm gonna go crazy.