i finished printing up my mini-comic at office max. it took about three hours of trial and error to complete, but i did it. and it only cost me about fifteen dollars for approximately one hundred copies, with seafoam and peach covers. i call it "my boyfriend hates me". i'm worried lately, i've been going really crazy in the apartment. i'm not sure where i am going, and it's certainly terrifying. it's easter. yesterday afternoon, i took a train back to long island to see my family. my mom let me drive her brand new, $50,000 cadillac back home, since i almost forgot how to drive. i really, really miss driving. and that freedom. i miss my car. i pulled up to our driveway, and my car was in the street and it made me want to cry. so many memories. it's a piece of shit, but...so many memories. on the train, i peeked at the conductor's hands. they were so old. such old hands. am i going to have hands like that when i am older? and will they be punching holes in ticket stubs? will they still be serving lattes? will i be constructing buildings with my hands? will i be tearing them down? what about my feet? will they still be beautiful and dainty after i'm through with them? will i ever be able to purchase another pair? i have a lot to learn. last night, my mother kissed me on my forehead, because i am sick, before she went upstairs to sleep. she told me that she misses me being around. i told her, "i know." i told her that i'm part of a living, breathing city now. i have an obligation to that city. i am a part of what makes that city tick. and it needs me. she understands, and she said that she knows, but she misses me. i am only nineteen. i'll be twenty-five in six years. and so on. i don't want old hands, and i certainly don't want old feet.