"I blankly lean on my memories for a long time
The dream-like memories are thicker than reality
The same thing repeats every day, though nothing changed
That’s all there is but why does it feel so unfamiliar?..."

"Wanna Do" Jiyoung (KARA)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air is frigid, blowing my golden hair into my face while freezing the tears to my eyes. Ahead of me, his silky physique glided forward as it usually does. Awaiting his answer, I hold my breath, but he doesn't move any closer like I wish him to. Instead, he lifts his hand until I see a black object, glistening from the wet snow, pointing directly at me. My blue eyes shift in shock, but my body cannot move. My arms will not reach out to him. My voice, unfamiliar, speaks now but I don't understand. He only laughs with wicked humor and then I hear a click. My eyes cannot remain open, and I let them close slowly. I know he will not come. If he were to, maybe this would stop. But I know it wont. As long as I am alive. 

*Loud gunshot rings in the distance as scenery fades away*

*alarm clock*

6:45am, Incheon Airport, Wednesday April 17th, 2012. 

The terminal doors opened widely, allowing the musty scent of second class permeate through the lobby. Excitedly, I took the deepest breath I could muster nd exhaled thoroughly. 

"Finally."

Although mom hesitated my visiting Korea, she can't stop a 20 year old from purchasing her own ticket. Not that her "no" could even have stopped me from boarding the first flight to Korea. I love her, but the urge was just to strong this time. 

In my 20 years of life, I've never been so fulfilled as I was now in this moment. I have a mother who adored me as her only child. And I had a father who was richer than you could imagine. But he passed away when I was ten. I've had many friends, but it just never filled me. I've always felt driven by something. A force or some other that wants me to see something, or someone. And until then, I wont be completed. I've never disregarded these strange forces before. Mom told me that it was a sixth sense and took me to many psychologists, the best in the city. But I always believed that it was fate driving me towards a specific direction. The first time I felt this drive, it was in a park when I was seven. Once I saw a picture of a beautiful garden on tv, I desperately wanted to go see that same garden. So badly in fact, that my dad drove half across the state to get there. He always said it was the shock of his life when I stood in front of the garden. He described it as a trance-like state, and apparently I had mumbled words that seemed to be in another language. 

Since then, dad always tried his best to help me with these urges. He felt it was his duty to find out what they were. He went so far as to look up the language that I mumbled in my sleep. Dutch. I was speaking Dutch without knowing. But before my father could contact someone in a supernatural field to get some answers, he died in a freak accident. Mom never believed in what we believed in. She tried her best on denying the existence of such forces and usually locked me away when I tried to reason with her. But I knew she started to think about them too after my first episode. 

Once, mom denied me of going to a lake in Georgia. I tried to explain to her that I needed to. But she kept pushing me to the side, telling me to go to bed until I felt better. So I disregarded the sense and went to bed. An hour later, I broke out in cold sweat and was sent to the hospital for a mini-coma. Little did my mother know that when I was "sleeping", I had dreamt of a young girl in a blue dress with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin was fair, and her world was bright. In those dreams, I could have sworn that it was me as the girl. Her voice was my voice, her face was my face. And since then, these dreams reoccured more and more. 

But this time, the feeling was different. I can't help feeling anxious and pressured; like all the prior times were building up to this point in time. It feels like every step I am taking in Korea was leading me to the truth. My answers to these events. This was it.

"Ah! Exuse me Miss! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!" 

I rubbed my backside and took the extended hand in my direction. "It's ok, my fault for being in the way." 

The hand was porcelein-like; almost transparent. But it was beautiful. I must have marveled a bit too much because he cleared his throat impatiently.

"Are you ok?" 

My eyes shot up and took in the stranger's features at length: Jet black hair, a pointed chin, and evenly toned skin.

But what struck me the most was his impeccably intense gaze. He smiled as if he recognized me, and it just occured to me that part of the anxiety within me disappeared at the first sight of this boy.