My leg started to cramp, but i was so 'sardine tinned' in, that i couldnt move. The musky smell of the underground air
mixed with body odour coming from my right. I felt like i was going to retch, but the stench thankfully was swept away
with the rest of the london crowds which congregated on the small carriage, once they had left. There were hardly any
people left, and i uncrossed my creaky legs. Across from me, a man with whitening hair and pinstripe trousers was
sketching something. I was tempted to try and look, but before i could he got of at the next stop. Before leaving the
train, he hesitated and ripped the paper he was drawing on, folded it in half and threw it on the seat next to me,
grabbing my eye contact for a split second. he hurried off out of the doors and onto the platform.
I unfolded the piece of paper and it was me. He'd done about half of me, and i was holding hands with a boy. He was
pretty good looking and had big soft eyes and hair which flicked up at the ends. I scanned the train to see if possibly
he was on the train right then, but i was disappointed when he wasnt there, i thought maybe the man was doing some
subtle matchmaking. But that would have been to much good luck.
As if moving isnt bad enough, but to move to a place where you know no one and the house is only half complete leaves me
with little to do for the three weeks which remained of the summer holidays, before i had to start a fucking new school.
If you hadnt guessed already from the way i was so worried about this, i am not good at making friends. It amazes me
that i made any in the first place. But maybe back in the day i was normal as a young child, so i just got on with
Eurgh, i seem like one of those really typical girls, don't i?
Ones who are apparently 'different' but then somehow get the hottest guy, EVER?!
well, im sure thats not me.
I will probably make some friends, but i will end up hating them. I'm pretty annoying like that. I've never liked
someone for more than about 6 months, and im very shallow.
The first thing i look for in a friend is fashion/looks.
Then music taste.
Then who they are friends with.
Then there personality.
Thats really horrid isn't it?
So, thats me. I spend hours picking my clothes and make up, then catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window and want to
run back home crying. I can't remember a time where i wasn't self concious, but what makes it even worse is that
everyone calls me the vainest. So i spend time on myself, but i really am not vain. I don't think they know but i don't
take it very well when they say that.
I'm the only one left on the carriage know, and the rumble sounds of the underground train leave my stomach
uncomfortable. At the next stop i rush off, and vomit on the station. My head is muzzy and i am so confused. I unzip my
duffel bag and lean on the side on a banch looking for my mirror. Looking in, I have tears in my eyes. This is the worst
my skin has ever been, my eyes are puffy and my cheeks are fatter than your baby sisters. I wipe the sounds of my mouth
and brush my fingers under my eyes to remove the blackish mess which lined my eyes, the mascacra i wore yesterday. I
dont know why, but i just ran up the steps to the ground level of the underground stop and just wanted to run. I never
run, only when i feel it is necassary, wither in a lesson where it is forced upon me, when i am in danger or when i feel
fat. I had no reason to, and i raced through the bobbing bald men in their pinstriped suits and briefcases which filled
the caps of the walls. My oster card slapped the passing turnstile and i raced through. tears drowned my eyes and i sped
along the pavement. I turned a corner to find myself staring at a park i'd never seen before. I immediatly stopped run
and was hypnotised to enter. the black metal gate was intricately decortated, and i managed to read a faint scrawl on
the side of it.
'RIP i love you for always'
It was like a magnetic force which dragged me in. I saw ahead that it wasnt just a park, but a cemetary. I didn't even
want to parade around dead bodies. But still i did.
The wind was cooler in the park, i tried to strain my head round to see the street bhind me, but my neck just ached in
the force. The ground under my feet was crumbly and weak. It was slightly frosted, although it was the middle of summer.
My finger tips wrinkled like when they are in water for to often and i heard nothing but my own footsteps. I reached in
my bag to get out my ipod but there was nothing hanging from my arm, but i ould still feel the weight. My head became
heavy and it lulled onto each side, until i blacked out. I could hear the thump of my head on the crumbly soil path, and
the dirt which hid in my fingernails. I could smell my blood seeping from my head. But i felt nothing. i was numb.