Sweet dreams about you

He Dreams About What? 6:45pm

2011-04-05T10:40:00.001+08:00

Me, he says. Or said.

He dreams. About. Me.

I sat down, a little shocked. No I was more than shocked. The guy dreams. About. Me. That does not happen. It isn't happening. It wasn't. I mean, there are more important things. Were more important things. I mean. O-levels. Doomsday. AND THIS! WHAT IS THIS?

I started hyperventilating. Short. Breaths. Can't. Breathe. Cold. Sweat. Shit shit shit shit. Shoot I. Should. Not. Be. Cursing. Right. Now.

"Melanie," Ryo said. His voice sounded far away. His hand was still in a death grip around mine.

"What," I manage to breathe. Then went back to hyperventilating again. Didn't. They. Have. Paper. Bags. In. Starbucks. What. Is. The. Imbecile. Doing.

Then, as if he knew what I was thinking, he went to the counter and came back with - lo and behold - a paper bag. I snatched the paper bag from his hands and blew into it like I was blowing a balloon.

Immediately I felt better. Thank God I read enough random chick lit books to know that paper bags work wonders when one is hyperventilating.

Which brings me back to Ryo. Now that my breaths were longer and deeper, I was starting to notice the similarities between him and dream guy.

"Are you... the dream guy?" I whisper, "Because if you are I have found 'you' and now I just need to do... whatever it is... to you... and... You're here trying to dissuade me from finding 'you' because you're my 'soulmate'." I made air quotations at that word, my face one of disbelief.

Then I continued, "How the hell does that work?"

"Melanie," he said, squeezing my hand tighter - if that was even possible.

I looked up, and stared into his eyes. There was something about this guy that made me lower my guard. Something, yet I still couldn't bring myself to trust him. Not yet. Especially not when he's going around saying he's my 'soulmate'.

"You're missing the point."

"Which is?"

"I'm your soulmate, no inverted commas at that." And so... you're the one I'm supposed to 'be with'? I'm 16, not 60! You can come talk about 'soulmates' with me when I'm 60. Not now. Especially not now.

"I know what you're thinking. You're 16, not 60. What soulmates am I talking about?" SHIT HE JUST READ MY MIND.

I looked at him warily. But he held my gaze, ever confident.

"So it's true," I said, not really willing to believe it, "You... really dream about me?" But if you're my 'soulmate', why am I not dreaming about you?

"Because there are two ways this can play out," he said, freaking me out that he's answering my unspoken questions.

"What are they?" I breathed. Because if I didn't he'd do that freaky 'reading my mind' crap again. And force me to use expletives. Which I am not fond of. Again.

"One, you stay here, with me. We don't perish. You get through your Os. You and I can be happy together. I know you better than you know yourself."

Okay that's creepy, I thought before I could stop myself. He gave me a look that said he knew what I just thought.

Which made me demand this: "Stop reading my mind."

He waved my demand away like it was nothing, saying, "If you wish." That condescending basta- I. Will. Not. Curse.

"Two, you look for him. One of us dies."

STILL THAT THURSDAY, 6:32pm, Coffee + WHAT THE- (cont.)

2010-09-22T14:11:00.000+08:00

"Wait wait wait. You're saying that I can see the future?" I had asked him, squeezing his hand as tightly as I could.

"Yes, but not of everyone. Just this one person."

I widened my eyes and asked, "This guy I'm dreaming about?"

He nodded.

"Is the guy even born yet?"

He nodded, again. Come on! I need ANSWERS, not nodding!

"He's your age," Ryo said, "Maybe older. You know everything about him because..."

He must have planted it in me. You know, the information, and made it surface as a dream? Like that Christopher Nolan movie everyone raved about.

"Why did I dream about him only when you came?"

He threw a look at me as I was about to ask another question. That shut me up.

"You don't only dream about him because I'm around. You dream about him because you have a mission. You need to find him, and do... something, and I'm here to tell you not to go."

"You don't even know what it is I'm supposed to do and you're telling me not to go? You're supposed to protect me?"

Well, I don't need that kind of protection, thank you very much.

"It's not that I don't know. I can't tell you," he took a deep breath, paused, and then said, "Look, we're connected, alright? The connection between us is so deep that if one of us falls, the other won't be spared."

Ah, so this is making sense. He's not 'sent to protect me'. He's protecting himself from getting hurt by whatever things he thinks I'm going to do.

"When I'm close to you, something in your subconscious weakens, and that allows another person's life to be lived in your dreams."

"So then why'd you come? If you didn't, I wouldn't have to suffer." Or have sweet dreams about a yummy guy's life.

He sighed, "Because you're my soulmate."

That's it.

The guy's nuts. Cue the puking.

I stood up, ready to leave from his crap when he wrapped his fingers around my arm as tightly as someone ever could.

"I dream about you."

STILL that Thursday, 6.13pm, Coffee + WHAT THE-

2010-09-22T13:41:00.002+08:00

So I don't let him in.

I mean, can you blame me? If you had a guy say, "Oh I know the way you think, and I know the most inner workings (I mean, inner-most workings) of your subconscious mind? Which happens when you are SLEEPING???"

You wouldn't let him in.

Besides, I have my mum to think about. And my mum.

And my mum.

And my social life (or lack-there-of. I have 'Os'. Sue me for being dramatic.)

So yeah. I went down with him just now. (I'm not that stupid. No way am I stepping into his house.)

And we had coffee. At Starbucks. And I had my Java Chip. And everything felt better. (For a while.)

Until he said, "I was sent to protect you."

That's when I choked on my Java Chip and went, "WHAT??????" (Yes, with that many question marks.)

I mean, what the hell does he need to 'protect me' from? Monsters? Ghosts? 8 legged creatures of darkness???

So I stared at him. Hard. And I went, after wiping off chocolate from my chin, "Wait. Don't tell me. You think that the dream guy is a... bloodsucking vampire."

And then I proceded to laugh in his face.

I don't even believe in vampires that sparkle, that's how un-vampire-ish I am.

"No," he said, much to my surprise. (I seriously thought he was going to agree with me because he looked so serious and stuff. He was looking into my eyes gravely and everything.)

I think he took my hand in his, and for some reason I didn't shake it off. Because? I don't know why. I just felt safe with my hand in his. I know, right? Crazy.

Absolutely lunatic. First I think the guy's a stalker, then I feel safe? With him?

Siao ah[5].

"The truth is, Mel, you are..."

A zombie?
An alien?
Absolutely out of my mind?

What? I willed him to say more.

[5] ARE YOU CRAZY???

Still that Thursday, 4.24pm, LALALA plug in my brain

2010-02-04T18:34:00.002+08:00

But I didn't call him that, even though in my heart I really thought that this guy was one heck of an idiot.

I live in a normal world, I do normal things. I have a normal (HUGE AND GASTRONOMICAL) exam to attend to. And this... this is definitely not normal.

I don't even think Ryo is normal. Look at him. He looks like he's, what, 17? And suddenly Mr Neighbour is a know-it-all when it comes to my definitely not normal dreams about a not-normal guy?

What do you expect me to say? Come in, have some coffee, and we'll talk it out?

"Let me tell you this over coffee. It'll be easier to digest," he says. Oh, so now he can read my mind.

Just great.

Now you tell me.

2009-12-01T09:56:00.000+08:00

"I'm sorry," he tells me. That's the only thing that he says. Come on, I thought he would have something much longer to tell me, like how I really need a psychiatrist because I think that the guy in my dream is real.

But he doesn't know anything about that, because I never said anything.

"The reason," he continues finally, "for your dreams."

Oh, then he stops talking again.

"You know, I don't have much time to see you standing there, saying nothing, trying to tell me something that is not related to me at all."

"I know why you dream... why you see him. Why you know that he isn't just another dream," Ryo says.

If I wasn't feeling so cynical I guess I would have fallen down, or fainted. But this is no time for fainting. This is the time to know who the hell is this new neighbour of mine. (And the time to really get back to my studies. My O-levels are inching closer by the minute. Not very comforting at all.)

"Yeah, so you know everything," I tell him, "So what's with the psychiatrist thing? If you say you knew, then I should have been spared."

I was tempted to mutter 'Idiot' under my breath. Oh, so very tempted.

MOMENTS LATER.

2009-10-24T11:15:00.001+08:00

I get off my bed after a few minutes of stubborn reluctance.

Even if he did want to talk, couldn't he wait until dawn? (Who am I kidding it's 4:16pm. In the afternoon.) At least then my parents wouldn't be disturbed. (LIE.)

Trying my best to make the least amount of noise as I possibly can, I shuffle my feet across the corridor leading to the gate, noting that shuffling doesn't really work that well. (Why am I even sneaking around? Oh right. My mum's in the kitchen. I don't want her to know I'm talking to the cute (but idiotic) guy next door. She'll jump onto this like a cat jumps on a mouse and then you know what will happen? I'll have no social life. Oh God I even exaggerate.)

So then I unlock the front door and the steel gate and close them gently behind me.

"What?" I whisper loudly so he can hear.

Thursday, 3.17pm, Flashbacks.

2009-09-22T14:57:00.000+08:00

I just got home. The whole week so far had been tiring. With preparations for the big Os here, it couldn't be more boring.

Settling into my chair, I take my favourite pen and start doodling on my foolscap, drawing little hearts and vines around the border when I'm supposed to be doing my Maths homework.

I get the fact that we're supposed to learn and retain some of the knowledge so that we can do well and have a better future and stuff like that, but that's the twentieth time Ms Chong has repeated trigonometry this week, I swear.

Besides, I couldn't really concentrate, what with the mysterious man in my dream and the idiot in real life who's still not talking to me.

I think back to yesterday's dream. He was closer to my age again. Okay, so maybe he wasn't growing up in my dreams. They feel more like flashbacks than a perfect story. I'm beginning to like the exclusive peeks into his life.

He's always alone and he's never old... maybe not yet.

He's always in colour, of course. That's what make him so real. He's so beautiful as a child... so innocent and so sweet. I always smell cherry blossoms when I'm near him, no matter what age he was that day. The surroundings are always a little blurred, but he never is.

He's so clear I could describe the exact colour of his hair (chocolate brown, lightened by the sun) and the colour of his lips (nude-ish pink) and I could remember his every feature. He's so clear that I'm almost expecting him to materialise in front of me when I daydream.

I don't know his name, because no one ever calls him when he's in my dreams, but I got a feeling it starts with a 'R', just like the idiot who avoids me at every turn.

It's not like I ever did anything to the idiot. All I did was express my anger at his suggestion.

It's human to do so. Get over it.

Stupid Ryo. Call yourself a man. Men. Are they all like that? I don't think 'Mystery Man' is like the idiot.

He's always so happy. He talks to people I can't see, and he never gets mad at them. He plays on his own, and he never makes suggestions to the toys to do things the toy doesn't want to do.

He never thinks anyone is crazy.

Unlike that idiot neighbour of mine, I bet 'Mystery Man' will grow up to be a gentleman.

I start shading the hearts when I hear a loud slam. When I look up, I see Ryo the idiot walking swiftly out of his room.

Moments later, the bell rings.

Saturday, 12pm, Hallucinations.

2009-09-14T23:30:00.002+08:00

I didn't go to bed at all yesterday. So no dream, no guy, no nothing.

But at 7 in the morning I fell asleep, not being able to stand it anymore.

It wasn't a deep sleep. I could feel myself tossing and turning even when I saw him again.

Today he was a little boy, playing with two cars - one red, one yellow. He kept crashing them together. As usual, I'm invisible to him, but I sit on the marble floor anyway.

"Broom brooooom, beep beep!" he kept repeating.

Just like the way he keeps on popping in my dreams.

I am beginning to think that maybe... well, just MAYBE... he's a real life guy and I'm dreaming of him and thus that makes him my 'dream guy'.

Okay even that is too mushy. I am cringing at my own thoughts.

But if he isn't real, then... am I hallucinating?

So anyway, I wake myself up with a jerk - I literally jumped up - a few minutes ago.

He's too cute to be a hallucination - oh gosh I am falling in love with a guy that I most probably created in my mind that I ardently am trying to bluff to myself that he is real and not fake and...

Why I am having this conversation with myself?

I am insane. Completely insane.

Friday, 1.16am, Silence.

2009-09-11T01:16:00.003+08:00

I know I just woke up because it suddenly became very black and all I could see was... nothing.'

Seconds before that I was dreaming that same strange dream again.

I wonder for a moment if I was going to know who the man in my dreams really is in real life. Is this real? Is he real?

Or is he only part of my imagination? My too vivid imagination.

He can't have anything to do with... him, can he?

I mean... if you really think about it, sure, the dreams came with... Ryo.

But the man isn't him. The man isn't him at all.

I am sure of it.

Am I?

Maybe this is all the guilt that I am feeling from yesterday.

I felt so embarrassed that I couldn't bear to look at him today. Or yesterday, when I was in the lift. And I saw him.

His eyes glazed over me, top to toe. Then he kept silent.

I can keep silent too, you know. It's not as if I had to speak every second.

But I couldn't help but wonder...

Well, since he was SO HELPFUL, why couldn't he just ask more?

Thursday, 3.14am I think, Waking Up.

2009-04-25T19:53:00.011+08:00

I think my eyes feel wet.

Maybe I'm still dreaming as I'm feeling for my blanket now, shivering from the cold. The air conditioner is certainly up on full blast today.

I hear the 'drip, drip, drip' and imagine a beat that would have worked well on drums, if I knew how on Earth to play them. Ugh. I pull the blanket closer to me. It's leaking again.

Sitting up, I stare at the window. You know how some people say it's unlucky to face your bed to the window? Somehow staring at that painting Ryo hung up calms me, even though I'm squinting in the dark. So maybe it isn't unlucky for me. Besides, I don't believe in superstitions.

The more I look at the swing, the more I envision myself on it, flying through the air, smelling the sweet scent of the grass and looking at the vast, almost turquoise, sky.

I wonder who the painter was. Suddenly I wish I could have one of the painter's paintings. It definitely would calm me having it in my room. I would stare at it for hours and hours after having the strange dreams I've been having for the past few days.

The last time I spoke to Ryo was at the canteen last thursday. After that I didn't really see him. He wasn't in any of my classes, of course. I think he takes Japanese outside of school. Obviously we wouldn't share any other class other than mother tongue (even that is out of the question) because we would stick to our form class like Amber wishes to be stuck to Wen Yu.

We don't even have CCA[4], because we only have 23 days and 3 hours and 19 minutes and counting left to the O-levels and our CCAs are already a thing of the past.

Besides, I know his move was very sudden and strange, if you ask me, because who moves at such a crucial stage of their life? Of course I knew he only just moved to a new school (who knew why), because of that stupid drilling, which, thankfully, have since stopped on Friday.

I guess my new neighbours only had so many things to drill.

But the odd thing is that on Thursday, I started having these really, really weird dreams that would shake me up at a time only Vampires would be awake, and every single time I'd be crying when I wake up, except I would immediately forget about what I was dreaming about because I'd be too busy trying to keep myself warm.

And the air con just got fixed on Sunday. Now it's leaking. Again.

The only thing I really remember about those dreams is a face, because it was very clear in those dreams of mine, though I guess they can be called nightmares. Except I don't remember much from them. Nothing except that familiar face, again and again.

I don't know that face, but I always feel a sense of deja vu thinking about it. It, or rather, the person, always look different, but I know it's the same person because the difference in his faces was his age.

He could be 6 on one day, and 14 the next. But there's one thing certain, he's definitely growing in my dreams.

Maybe one of these days I would no longer wake up from these dreams because he would be dead. I would vanquish the demon of my dreams!

But somehow, I've a feeling that he isn't so bad. He doesn't look menacing. He just looks... lost.

As lost as Ryo looks now, staring right at me through the windows, as if he were trying to make sense of my sleep pattern.

He turns on his light and opens his window, leaning a little out.

I get out of my bed, aware of his gaze which is undoubtedly following my every move, and avoid the puddle the air conditioner is making. I switch my lights on, turn the air conditioner off and open the windows.

The air outside is cool on my face. I see him holding a paper airplane and positioning the airplane for immediate take off.

The airplane landed perfectly on my desk. I picked it up and unfolded it.

On it, the words were scribbled, not because of Ryo's illegible handwriting, but I can tell it's because of the hurry he was in.

I briefly wonder how he had gotten pen and paper before I even noticed, but swiftly turned my attention to his words.

'Melanie,'

the note read,

'I would have told you this in person, but between school and settling in, I had little time.'

I look up, and see him giving me a apprehensive, yet cheeky grin.

Quickly I try to decipher the rest of his note, which says,

'You had restless sleep these days. So restless that your screaming often woke me up. I don't know why your parents don't come and check in on you because you were terrified of something every night and every single night the shrieking just gets louder.

In fact, it sometimes get so frightening, because really, you sound like you've seen a ghost. Or worse, like you morphed into one.

I'm seriously contemplating getting soundproof windows. :P

Jokes aside, if anything bad is happening in your life, you can come to my mother. She used to be a counsellor, so it'd be cool.

Besides, I wouldn't want to spend any money on that soundproof windows.

Ryo.'

Okay. So maybe the dreams are scaring me more than I thought.

But that doesn't mean I needed counselling! Who did he think he was, my mother? We don't even go to that family counsellor anymore.

Counselling is something only people who have serious problems do. My family is perfectly fine, thank you very much.

How dare he even suggest counselling to me? The only thing that messes me up (other than the impending Os, of course) is the guy who just threw a paper airplane through my window.

I glare at him and he looks confused.

Fiercely, I grab the first pen I see, which turns out to be a red marker, and scrawl over the paper diagonally,

'I DO NOT NEED TO SEE A THERAPIST,'

not caring if that makes me sound more disillusioned.

Then I crunch it up and throw it back at him. It bounces off his chest and I watch as he scrambles on the floor for it.

And I saw his face turn from concern to anger, but somehow he manages to tame the anger into irritation because he doesn't slam the windows as I would have.

He just closes them as though it were his nightly habit to breathe in the cool, fresh night air and turns around, climbing into his bed, I assume, because all I saw was the darkness, and the moonlight seeping through, illuminating the painting, almost making it look real.

[4] My favourite Co-curricular Activities.

Thursday, 11am, when food is in my face.

2009-03-23T13:57:00.006+08:00

Smells Like Trouble.

Amber is my friend. Yeah yeah... I know it's weird to say that. But I have to remind myself of that fact before I let go of my right hand and slap her on her face. Hard.

Because there's this other thing about Amber. She talks. A lot.

So much that all I ever do hear is a buzz. Like the kind you hear in the silence. Except this is louder because it isn't silent. It's in your face. (Or should I say... 'ear'.)

She's yapping about the Geography test now and how she studied so very hard for it. How she stayed up all night yesterday. (No doubt because she forgot about it until the last minute.) And made mind maps of the chapter on Tourism. How she better score an A for it, or she might cry and she doesn't want Wen Yu, that guy she secretly had a huge crush on since Sec 3, to see her cry.

Because that will break his heart.

She kind of failed to see that he doesn't even like her.

So now I have to restrain myself with my left hand, because if she continues talking about Wen Yu, whom she has talked about for 2 whole years, but has never communicated with, Right Hand might just fly up without me noticing and hit a hard one across her face.

Amber is my friend. I. Cannot. Slap. Her.

I also cannot comprehend why on Earth my neighbour still laughs manically in my brain when he is not near me. It's almost as if I'm hallucinating.

Really. Mr Neighbour looks like he's two years older than I am.

So there is no way he could ever appear in front of me when I am walking to the Malay store, contemplating between getting Mee Rebus and Nasi Lemak, both very tantalising Malay food that I'm sure that I would be able to finish if Amber isn't yapping beside me about how that guy in my school's school uniform in front of me, who I am only 50 percent sure is Mr Neighbour, is 'so hot' and if he didn't walk to me and say, "Hi. Aren't you the girl who lives next door who enjoys staring at me?"

I blush but nod, feeling as if this whole thing is completely astounding. Which it is. Shocking and surprising. A witty comeback is what I really pray would come now, but nothing witty comes out of my mouth.

I just continue staring at him, like he just accused me of doing for the past two days.

"I'm Ryosuke," he said. "But you can call me Ryo for short."

So he is Japanese. I know. I'm stating the obvious.

"I'm Melanie. But you can call me Mel. For short." I smile as he laughs that deep, hearty laugh I heard so many times yesterday it got pretty annoying. But I don't mind it now.

Amber piped in, "I'm Amber. But I don't think I'll like it if you called me 'Am' for short."

I roll my eyes. It is just like Amber to come in and yap at the most inappropriate time.

Ryo smiled at her, though. So maybe it wasn't as annoying as I thought. But maybe he was being nice. I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm evil. I think evil thoughts about my friends. Like Amber.

Then he looks at me and go, "So how's the drilling? I hope it wasn't affecting you."

I wonder why nothing comes out of my mouth even though the drilling was definitely vexing for me.

Wednesday, 3.17pm, at my desk.

2009-03-18T14:37:00.007+08:00

The Drilling Continues.

Although by now I've kind of gotten used to it. The funny thing is that instead of using contractors, or whatever you call people you pay to renovate your old HDB[3] flat, the father and son are working as a team.

I know because my desk faces the window of their apartment so I can't help but see them fiddling with the driller. Or whatever it's called.

I can't believe I'm staring at them instead of trying to work through my Geography. Human Geog is tough. Especially Tourism.

They don't look like they're tourists to me.

What am I talking about? Tourists don't buy apartments in Singapore. Unless they're rich. And have a lot of time on their hands.

The son looks like he's in Poly. Maybe second year. So maybe that's why he has time to help drill stuff on the walls. Like this framed painting of a vast field. The field has nothing on it except a tree. And a swing. A wooden one with ropes.

He has dark jet black hair and tan skin. I think he's about a head taller than I am, but I can't be sure. I like his eyes. They're chocolate brown. Unlike mine, which are just plain black. Or ebony, if you want to be fanciful with words.

He's distinctly Asian. But is he Chinese, like I am? Or is he Japanese? Or Korean?

Will he like me? As a neighbour, of course. I'm pretty friendly. I say 'Hi' and 'Bye' to people in the lift, and sometimes I bring over some Hakka Abacus if we happen to make some at home to the neighbours.

I wonder if he likes yam.

Will they stop their drilling if I ask?

I don't even know how many days left there is till doomsday anymore. Distractions are not a good sign. Especially if you're supposed to be revising on Tourism and there's a test tomorrow.

He's laughing now. I can hear his laughter. Deep.

Geography Test! Melanie! Snap out of it!

[3] HDB = Housing Development Board. Duh.

Tuesday, 2.44pm, Home.

2009-03-11T10:05:00.005+08:00

The day I am doomed to hell.

Not because I already am but because right next door, there’s this loud drilling going on. So even if I realised that I have only one month, five hours and twenty-two minutes left till doomsday, I can’t do anything about it because I cannot concentrate.

Why do people even move at this time of the year, anyway?

Don't these people realise that in one month, five hours, twenty-one minutes, 5 seconds and counting, doomsday is going to knock on my door and say 'Hello'?

I'm not a lucky bird, okay? I don't stay in a condo, like some of my friends do. I don't have an air-conditioned room for me to scoot down to in order to concentrate. If you go downstairs right now, all you have is the mama shop[2] selling all kinds of sweets, snacks and magazines to distract me from my mission.

And the library is too far away, if you ask why I'm not there. I have to take the train, switch to a bus, then walk in order to get there.

Wait.

I just had a brilliant idea! Except I don't have earplugs. It turns out I come out with brilliant ideas that can't be used.

[2] A shop where anything you need can be found.

Tuesday, 7.30 am, Geography lesson.

2009-03-09T11:04:00.010+08:00

The day I realised I only had a month left to my O levels.

It feels like crap when you realise you only have one more month left till doom slaps you in the face.

I realised that today... actually, right at this very moment while Mrs Lim is yapping away about development and I am paying fervent attention even though, really, I feel like falling asleep.

Not that her yapping had anything to do with my wanting to fall asleep because my Geography teacher is a master at telling incredible stories so you never want to fall asleep at all.

It’s just that... yesterday I was kept awake by my sister’s yakking about being so terrified of the infamous ‘fire needle’, where the nurse would light up the needle of the syringe and then inject you, causing you enormous pain because of the heat.

I informed her that the fire does nothing to the needle except maybe sterilising it so that you can be protected from those ‘bad’ germs that will attack you and your immune system.

But Emily – that’s my eleven-year-old-shivering-with-fear sister – being as sceptical as ever, didn’t believe me and continued her yakking about the infamous ‘fire needle’.

“Oh, I can’t sleep,” she said, tossing in her bed below mine. “I’m so scared that it’ll hurt. Jie[1], will it hurt?”

I assure you I did not catch any of those winks of sleep while she was yakking away. Ignoring her didn’t help, because that meant her tone would rise higher and higher each time I didn’t respond. And turning on the music didn’t help too, because somehow that pitch of hers could even rise above the loudest volume my iPod was tuned to.

That’s why I desperately need sleep right now, and why I checked the time on my watch and found out that yes, I am exactly one month and fourteen hours away from my English paper and I am doomed to hell.

[1] The term you call your older sister in Chinese, so as to make her feel old.

IGNORE THE FOLLOWING BECAUSE IT IS GEORGIA SPEAKING.

2009-03-09T09:01:00.003+08:00

Yeah. It's Georgia here. Not Melanie.

That's because I wanted to establish that despite what the description says, I'm not holding Melanie against her will.

Yes, after this post you will no longer see Georgia in this blog, because, contrary to popular belief, I'm actually the one held captive... by my own character.

So... this is my last post here. After this you'll get that 'exclusive insight' I promised. (Or Mel did anyway.)

It is set in October. Which year... I will not tell.

So ignore the dates too.

Okay. I better hand the reins (or the keyboard, in this case) to Melanie. This is HER brain, after all.

For my brain, click here.

I really need to go now. Before she wrenches me out of my chair and snatches the keyboard in a manner that can cut my hands.