There was this guy with the same course as mine. He was my Augustus Waters. But I am nowhere near the expectation that he will ever notice me. I don’t love him, okay? He’s much like the apple of my eyes.
Anyway, I dreamt about him. We’re on two different lunch tables facing each other. We’re texting? Dreams are really blurry. But the next parts are so vivid. We became friends and we walked together. It was sunny yet the ground was wet from rain. I dunno. I ran home and almost slipped over a puddle of water but before I could hit the ground, he ran to my aid and caught me.
He came with me to our house and he got to know about my family. I mean, they’re all acting weird but he sat there with an amused smile. He kept staring at me and a tinge of understanding passes between us.
After that, we ought to go somewhere but I cant remember the latter parts of my dream.
It’s just so vivid when he whispered so close to my face and his smile competing with the bright sun rays emanating from the spaces between the leaves of trees.
Not even a wink of sleep. Nor any decent meal. I wonder how my day will be like.’Cause dam this English paperwork. I used to love English. I never thought that this subject will have formulas and mathematics in its concepts.
Anyone , please do crack a joke. Life’s turning all gloomy and mechanical.
I was thinking of reading the “A Song of Ice and Fire” series first but then these past few days, I found myself watching “Game of Thrones” series. I hope I made the right choice, although that’s actually a spur of the moment.
Well, I’m stuck here in the midst of an underlying catastrophe of the mystical rain amongst people I barely know. I want adventure, even walking under the pouring heavens and laughing along with thunder. Then drink a warm cup of coffee with lots of cream while talking and rambling about random things endlessly. It will be like a touch of rainbow on a horizon of gray and misty blue clouds, just that it’s unbeknownst to many, only between me and someone. Someone who’s non-existent at the very moment. I wonder.
I can’t contain the complexity of my severed emotions. What will happen to Percy and Annabeth? Will Nico di Angelo be a storyteller? What monster or gods will these babies meet along the way? What is happening at Camp Half Blood? What does the prophecy really mean? Gimme pomegranates. The book, puhleasee.
2. The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater
My troubled fantasies! How did Ronan steal Chainsaw out of his dreams? What happens to my lovely boy Czerny? How are Adam’s feelings for Blue? Gawd, will Blue and Gansey kiss or what? And the leyline, secrets, Glendower! The Raven Cycle, my gee.
“ I wish I wrote the way I thought Obsessively Incessantly With maddening hunger I’d write to the point of suffocation I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing And I’d write about you a lot more than I should ”
- Benedict Smith, I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought
I like people who have thoughts they cannot fathom into constellations and yet they tell those anyway. It may seem a bit unclear but when I see emotions and their authentic selves carefree and expressive, as if talking feels like flying. It’s.. it’s one of the most beautiful things ever, like watching sunsets or seas.
I played with these two little girls Anna and Beth. They are so different from each other. But they both love holding hands with me and turning around in circles.
Anna was timid and you won’t get to talk to her unless she knows you well. She would fall and trip over a lot. She picks flowers and leaves carefully. She can sit down and be quiet and think and laugh softly. She appreciated the flower bracelet I made her.
Meanwhile, Beth was very outgoing. She considers me a close friend first time I met her. She was very fond of holding my hands and turn around really really fast. She picks up leaves wildly and scatter it over people’s heads. She can’t sit still. She laughs a lot. She didn’t appreciate the flower bracelet I made her but she loves my jokes.
I didn’t know girls that young would be so different. I wonder what kind I am and if anybody is writing about what kind I am. Or even just thinking what kind I am.
No. A lonely girl like me. Why would anyone do so?