She didn't miss home—she didn't miss family; she didn't even miss telling people where she came from. She only missed the people. She only missed what it was like to be aware of everyone around her and everyone's life. That feeling had been fading for years, and she was just now realizing how far it had gone.

She had slowly and methodically killed herself without even noticing.

Sometimes she wondered if she ever missed home at all.

She'd long since given up on the idea that she'd ever go back, that she'd ever be home again. The train was traveling through the night, and the girl was with it. She was alone on the train, and there was no one else in sight. The girl sat in her seat and stared into the darkness outside of the window.

She thought back to a time when she had been full of life and energy. She remembered how she used to wake up every morning with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She remembered how she used to look forward to each new day with excitement and anticipation for what it might bring.

But now all that was gone; she felt as if she were just going through the motions of life, but she didn't really care anymore about anything or anyone around her—not even herself!