I always knew I didn't belong here. I could tell, somehow. Sure, this is a beautiful world, when you get right down to it, but so many people don't appreciate that. Still, I don't feel like I really belong here, surrounded by all this beauty. I'll miss this place, sure, but I'll always have the pictures - my painting that is. They'll come with me everywhere; I will leave only copies behind, only forgeries, painted by my hand that wasn't mine, my hand that belonged to a body that I was trapped in.
I'll miss this place, like I said. I'll miss my best friend, I guess. Not my parents. they won't miss me either. Sure, I feel sorry for them and I hope they can straighten out their train-wreck of a life. I mean, if they can't, then how will they ever get where they belong? Anyway, my best friend. I'll miss her more than I can really say. I wish I could take her with me, but she would never go. She really does belong here, forever. She will never need a ticket, and I will never see her again. Maybe we can write one day, after she has gone. Like I said, though, she won't need to take the train. She'll just sort of...walk on in her place forever.
She stopped me once, when I tried to get on before. I was waiting at the station; I could hear the wheels grinding the ancient tracks; it was so close. For a second, I thought she had come to wave me off, but I was so wrong. I guess she meant for the best. After all, she had left me for two years, and I was grateful she remembered me, at least. I don't even blame her for cutting me off. I was trying to get my ticket, and dragging her with me. She shouldn't have followed; she didn't need one. Still, when she cleaned herself up, I was a little lonely. Well, lonelier than usual.
Now, though, she can't come to the station. She can't pull me from the train before it moves on again. I watch the world start to move slowly past. It's a nice place, really. So beautiful. I'm glad it has someone like her to appreciate it. Sad, though, that she's staying here. Happy too, I suppose. The trees are moving faster now; the people, the oceans, the cities, the animals are all a blur, such a beautiful wash of streaky color. She will know now, but she can't do anything. I think I can hear her calling me. "Goodbye, Major..."