Today is my seventeenth birthday. It’s seven o’clock – 1900 hours in twenty four hour time. I’m sitting on my suitcase at a train station and wondering why I ever left.  I suppose, if I had money, I’d still have time to get back there to where I belong and try to figure everything out. But I spent it all in my haste to get away. I’ve lost count of how many train tickets I bought today.

This morning wasn’t bad, when I think about it. My mum tries really hard trying to keep me happy. Why is it that only now, when I’m who-knows-how-far-away-from-her, that I realise? She brought me breakfast in bed today, kissing my forehead and then telling me not to take long getting ready for school and that she loved me but had to go to work. She said there were presents on the table I could open when I wanted to.

Why did I run? When I’ve got such an obviously loving mother, why did I do it? Why did I grab all my money together, pack a suitcase and high-tail it out of there?

I’ll tell you why. It’s because I was selfish and I wanted to be able to do things completely for myself, without any parents telling me what I could and couldn’t do. I didn’t want to go to school any more where I would see all my friends and be reminded every second that I couldn’t go to their parties and I couldn’t do the things they did. I didn’t want rules, guidelines and routines.

Sitting here, the only thing I find myself longing for is a warm bed, hot chocolate and a hug from my mum. I no longer care about not being able to do the things my friends do, or being forced to go to school each day when I’d rather be anywhere else.

My mum’s going to be so upset. I wrote goodbye on the wall of my room before I left, using spray-paint that she bought me for my art project. Even if I did have money that I could use to catch some trains back there, she probably wouldn’t want to talk to me. I really blew it.

I don’t understand why I didn’t think things through before acting, but it’s my fault that I became like this and it has nothing to do with my mum. She’s great and the only reason she said I couldn’t go to my friends parties and do the things they do is because she cares. She doesn’t want me to be exposed to drugs and things.

I know what my mum would say if I told her how I felt. She’d say, “Why didn’t you say anything before? You know I only set these rules because I love you,” and then we’d sit down and talk everything through so that we could find a compromise.

That’s another reason why she’s so awesome. She really cares about what I think.

So it really is entirely my fault that I didn’t use my brain and decided to leave. If I’d only spoken to her I would still be at home and things would be much better. What am I saying? Things would be great!

Stupid me. Stupid thoughts. Stupid lies.

What on earth caused me to think that I’d be better off on my own? What caused my reason and sense to fly out the window, abandoning me to my attempts at living alone?

What I’d give just to have 50c with which I could use in a payphone to tell my mum I’m okay. I can just imagine her sitting at home calling all my friends houses and asking everyone she knows if they can tell her where I am. My mum finishes work at six o’clock most nights. She will have been worrying for atleast an hour by now.

I simply can’t wrap my head around everything I’ve done today. I hardly stopped to buy much lunch as I just wanted to get far away and most of the day was spent sitting on an uncomfortable train seat.

I can see one of the train officials further along the platform to my left. I think he’s seen me but I’m not too sure as he’s still a fair distance away. Maybe I should go to him and ask for help. If anything, he could lend me his phone, couldn’t he?

Well what do you know, just now as I’m standing up the waterworks decide to come. I hate looking pathetic when talking to strangers.

But if it means I can see my mum again...