When I grow up I wanna be an acrobat.

My eyes are heavy from a lack of sleep, my nose is dripping, and my hair is being flung about by the wind - I don't care enough to move it from in front of my eyes. Looking through my wallet, I find a few used train tickets from the week before. I organise them into a neat pile, tear them in half, then into quarters, and slot the pieces into a gap in the blue bench beneath me. There is no place I hate more than the train station on a Monday morning. Everything appears to be so much worse of a Monday morning.

I should be doing readings for uni - but i'm writing this instead.

The train station can be a depressing place. Coming off the train of a weekday evening, Joe would always say "How sad is this? The drones on their way home after another day. What's most depressing is that tomorrow they'll have to do it all again. Five days on, two days off."
After hearing this I'd always feel the urge to run away and join a circus, or a colony of nomads or something - anything to avoid becoming another drone.

Nevertheless, Monday morning has come again, and an acrobat I am not - I'm sitting on a blue bench at the train station, tearing old train tickets into little pieces.