Hampstead Station, 2:04pm, Thursday 12th April 2011. That is
the date and time I arrived here at Hampstead. Infact, I’m still here
actually. It's now 4:17pm and I'd rather
be here sitting in a corner of Hampstead Station surrounded by strangers than
be with my "father" Joseph. Our relationship isn't that great to be honest.
When I get nervous, I begin to draw. I
don't know why; I just do it. Weird, right? I'm just nervous about seeing my
dad as I haven't seen him in half a year now. We hardly speak too... I mean,
what is there to speak about? It would just be small talk like " hi
", "how are you?", "how's school?", "how's
work?" and whatever. I don't want to waste my credit on a conversation
that won't even go anywhere. If we can't even talk on the phone, how are we
supposed to talk in person?
Joseph, he tries; I know he just wants the best for me. It
seems like it was just yesterday I told him I got into King's College in
Cambridge, he was so happy! How am I supposed to tell him that I've dropped
out? Now that's another awkward situation I want to avoid.
I think it’s time I make a move now; people are starting to
throw 10p coins at me as if I’m homeless and are complimenting my painting. Hahaha, wish me luck, I feel like I'm gonna need it.
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