that i dwadle and dream and hope and then get them dashed and remain planted to my fate as i hate and rave and rant and die an angry child.

i'm glad that for once, my parents took me seriously. that there was slight shock registered on their faces and that my mother gaped in astonishment as she mouthed the words - one year.

so as i willow and wilt in this town day-by-day, reason for my existence ebbing away, the life in me reducing to nothingness, waking up at one at night, hourly intervals, never a good nights' sleep.

i so want to go away. where?