(I wrote a short story for college about theme, see if you can find the theme I have in there, or well...what it means to me at least.)

Everyday there is more drama. I will sit in my normal spot, right by the small leaf green bush on the blue bench, and watch it all pass me by. None of it really effects me. No matter what the issue is, broken hearts, broken families, something always seeming to be either broken or in the process of breaking.

There are rainy days, cloudy ones. Strangly, the very sunny days are depressing, I suppose it is because the horrible drama on their faces does not fit with the warm feeling of the sun on my face. Sometimes I will write small poems about the way they're faces look, in so much pain, or I will draw them, in full force. I still sit there alone, never moving from my safe spot.