It's really dark now. I know no-one is home worrying about me, as my parents are away at the coast this week, leaving my older brother in charge. He's 18, and too pre-occupied with his girlfriend Zoe to worry about me. He cares, but not enough sometimes.
I think, three-and-a-half hours into my walk, I am beginning to realise who 'me' is. Having this amount of time alone, to think and notice the little things around me, really helped me to realise.
People don't notice me, the way they don't notice the little things I do - for example the cloud shaped puddle, the fact that every seventh plank of wood on the track seems to be an inch shorter that the rest. They don't realise these things because they're too afraid. they're too afraid to drift away from the 'bigger picture'. Noticing the tiny things in life - like me - would distract them from popularity, society, happiness.
This makes me smile. The fact that I am like a tiny secret to the world astounds me. There is so much to me, yet people never find out, because they're too afraid. I start to see this as a good thing. I would hate to be one of those people who's business is known by everybody, just because they can't keep their mouth shut. I would hate to be one of those predictable people, and have everybody know what I was going to do, say, eat even. Because then any sense of individuality is lost.