I didn't even realize the train had left Liège-Guillemins until I noticed it was frighteningly dark outside. The colours were indistinguishable aside from misty grey blurs so far into the distance that it hurt my eyes to look at them for too long. Today felt incurably lonely and I don't know why, but maybe I do. This kind of loneliness results in the most peculiar things. Like sincere or insincere happiness, like being spontaneously ravenous or completely losing your appetite and then suddenly you're questioning your existence and listening to the dull thud of the mass of your body as it drags itself through all the right actions of a little girl studying abroad in a foreign country. Sometimes lonely is false promises to yourself and those are the saddest to break because there is nobody to blame and it hurts to blame yourself. I don't know who to tell about my heavy heart, I don't even know if it's real.