I stopped reading the proposal, and stepped out of the classroom, we greet each other goodbye.

The plot was pleasant, yet her vocabulary was deficient with regards to, no big surprise, she is just eighteen years of age, she dreamed in her entire life to become a novelist.

I am a literary educator at “somewhere University” and she chooses me as her supervisor. I lived over 700 year but I still look like thirty years old; I guess I have so many secrets that the earth itself might not bear. In every 10 years I change EVRYTHING about me, I've worked as a craftswoman, musician in a non-public schools, instructor, researcher, and now an educator; what an incongruity.

I was created with no reason but I meant to be what I am now for some reason; I was brought to live when Jan the first kicked the bucket (the lord of France; 1316), I have no guardians to call or kin to rely on, neither a name.

Joy that cannot be hidden as well as saddens; people disappears, as if never been around, and I keep looking into the world like insane, yet for reasons unknown. "I'll find it"; I repeated as I am holding into life and begging for death.

Indeed, even there are such huge numbers of years, I feel dormant; even there are numerous individuals who extremely cherished me and sufficiently minded to love me, despite everything I feel lifeless.

From the years of youth, they were just waiting for time to pass. As children, they sat tight for the school bell, which signals freedom from the classroom. They also sat tight for summer vacation, which can feel like forever. Then, as teens, they impatiently waited for each next milestone, eighteenth birthdays, graduations, first jobs, first loves and so on.

For me I have encountered things reputedly, with different faces and same stories, time goes by so fast, yet for what reason does it feel so slow; If only the days could be longer so that I won’t have to worry, change everything and phony my death. I wish the death itself.

Through my experience, I’ve learned compassion isn’t something that comes naturally to most of us. We have to learn to do well, seek justice, and right wrongs and my faith compels me to serve those who are suffering, to love the unlovely; deity enlightened me with what I have already knew. But why me? Is it because I’m not bound to death, is it because I am interminable?

The world unfold itself for me, yet I can’t trust it; consistently under the damp star, under that sentimental view; wearing my nighted dress as ever, grieving for my endless life; longing for something to occur. I hustled across the street, jaywalking, not expecting to go into a mishap; I tumbled into the ground having a hard time breathing, before I went completely blank, I looked at the vehicle, the man, he was so distant from me it felt like he threw me 5 vehicles length. Slowly approaching while screaming for help, he was somehow familiar!

I don’t remember the ambulance coming or the ride to the hospital. I woke up to find myself on some hospital’s bed, my head was killing me, I looked at my hands b with wounds, that was a close call however I wouldn't pass on in any case. I have been in so many accidents that made this look like something normal to me; something I encounter in my everyday life, I’d usually leave before my wounds heal and before the doctors speculate me, yet I can’t understand why my feet declines to help me?

Sweet and sour fragrance coming my way, it unfolded itself to be from the one who hit me with his car, happy yet sad memories comes to mind When I saw him, tears flowing down, tears of guilt; it was back in 1958 when I first meet him, he was tall, had a couple of madly risky nectar hued eyes, the same profound voice, we were enourmed, we were in love and I killed it first.

The beginnings of love, the falling in love part, gives us starry eyes and butterflies in the stomach. It gives us someone, even better than a friend, to dance and dine with, someone to adventure with. But I wasn’t fit to this rule; I lived for over 700 years and I am still going on. Even without him, Even if there are so many years, I will not forget, we were holding on to our dreams; whatever it looked like, I wished back then for time with him to slow down, to hold into him like life is holding to me. I loved him so much that I couldn’t tell him that I am different, because with him I keep forgetting everything.