Mara knows me too well, and I've never let anyone get so close. Whenever I'm deep in thought, she asks me, 'what are you thinking?' and as usual my reply is, 'nothing.' Maybe I'm scared of getting any closer. I think I depend on her a little too much, and I hate that. I don't like it, but how do I tell her that?
I want to go home. I want to go back to the comfortable lonliness. Back to the buzzing noises of the city that beautifully cover my thoughts. Back to the familiarity of the place, of my innocence. How I wish I could be sitting in a cafe on Tienmou Rd. right now, with a good book and some coffee. Everything fades away and nothing is as important as it seems when I'm there.