Dad comes just like my prediction, a little past two. He said his work really drives him nuts, like workers act like and can’t work properly. Even his boss is like a truck load of (he really said that). So he took a nap till three then we start the journey.

My new city is three hours from here. Not too far, but not close too. There’s no flight to there so we have to use car or other land-transportation, but since dad never trust public-transportation so we will take a car.  Beside my things are so many that people might think that it’s my family stuffs too. I don’t sort my things again; just throw everything, even junks I never use again, inside the boxes. Everyone scolds me but I don’t care.

I sit at the backseat with sis. I stare at the landscape, it’s beautiful. Everything is green and the sky is vast, like never ending. The clouds are white too, like cotton, but more soft, and it’s really huge. The skies are blue too. It’s great. When I was a child I always race my bike to a secluded park and stare at the skies for like two till four hours till sunset. Then I raced back home. It’s calming and peaceful.

I think I have rough childhood, but not too rough, just not too happy I think. But I kinda feel my childhood still better than now. At least when I was a kid I didn’t have to hear dad’s nagging all day long, and just hear it maybe every 3months or every 6months. Or feel my mom’s mood changing. Or face my tempered older sister.

--

I miss her already, well not just her but every people I consider friend, Sunny. Uhm, yeah I only have 2 friends there. Uhm actually Sunny is just my partner, but if partner count as friend, then she is.

I miss their antics, their nagging voice, and their faces. Truthfully, I don’t know when I will meet them again. People say the distance doesn’t matter, but the heart is.

I don’t know where they find that logic.

The distance does matter, buddy. Even internet buddies always want to see each other face and see each other in person. If ones faces isn’t come to others expectation then, PASS~! you’re disqualified. This is cruel world and every adult out there knows it, that’s why adults really look like pessimists and realist. In my case, I think the environment force me like this, I grew up too fast; I mean my psychology’s age. I always seen the worst things, a child shouldn’t feel and experiences.

And I think she was too. Tiffany. I don’t know what happened to her life, her childhood life and overall life, but I really feel she suffered a lot, thought a lot, and hid a lot of things. She put up a really thick and tall wall around her, maybe to protect her heart so she wouldn’t feel too much hurt. I understood it because I did that too to myself. But unlike me, she façade her pain with cheerfulness and loud voices, while me do the exact opposite; quite and loner.

Maybe that’s why I feel connected to her in some way although I never really show it.

When I first saw her, I feel like she’s way out of my league. She’s beautiful, her smile blinding, her eyes sparkling, her body’s perfect, her voice’s melodic, her laugh’s crispy, her eyebrow was perfectly shaped and her heart is like an angel. I mean who wasn’t an angle if you are a really high maintenance student, high profile, well, popular too but you talking with some random nerd in casual way, like friendly way, not showing any disgusting face or even scrunched her nose because of some weird smell coming from that random guy. It’s beautiful scene I ever seen in my life. Usually people like her won’t even bother to see some nerd guy with belly sticking out and wearing really thick glasses with that creepy smile, moreover have a friendly talk.

And somehow, strangely, I put in that category. Nerd.

I really, like really, really cannot understand. My belly isn’t sticking out, I don’t have bad breath, I don’t wear braches, I don’t smell weird, I don’t wear thick glasses, I don’t have nerd’s pimple, I don’t write too much in class, my score isn’t that high, I don’t button my shirt up till my neck feels like it would exploded, and I don’t wear any creepy smile. Well, sometimes, when I see nice shaped buttocks out there. But it never too long! Sunny would smack my head so hard that I would trip over an imaginary log.

And being an angel she is, she talks to me, a nerd girl from some random class she never took. She saw me as a person, like saw me in the eyes when talk with me. I really appreciate that gesture. Some people would not even bother to look me in the eyes, like they were talking to somebody beside me. Their eyes, I hate them. Full of fakeness. Full of forcefulness.

Like I was a crap they don’t need to look at. Disgust them. Do I?

They would look elsewhere but me, my eyes, not even my toes, or my floating hair, or my plain tees, or even my bag. Not me. Never was me. I was nothing, but they pretend I was something. Pretending, how fake it is. They thought I would never know. Oh boy, I knew more than they knew about me. I know that look, that fakeness, that disinterest, that forcefulness, that fake smile. How I hate those. Fake smile. Fake friendship. Blah! If you don’t like to befriend some people, or feel something sour about them, why bother to befriend them?

Cause you are all fake. You feel like need some companies, some troubles, some fun, something that make you somehow be noticed by someone else. That you are somehow important. Bah! Of course everyone wanna be some called artist, idols, someone important, president, class president, mayor, or anything with any titled. Like it was important.

When they gain so much friend, fake friend, share fake smile, fake kindness, and fakeness- they treat people like as they please. Looking everyone down. Like they are some ing important guys in the world. They treat me like a thing, a person, who would never be able to fight back. I know how to fight back you know. I know some material arts, how to protect myself. But, I know the effects if I fight back, things would be in so much mess. Like they would be felt humiliated and hate me more. Mock me more. Makes me more invisible in their eyes.

Lol. I really, really don’t give a about it actually. They can feel, think, and act like as they wish, I won’t even care. They are just some random people I would eventually meet in life. It’s normal. That’s the little spark in live, which makes me could talk about them, like burn something down. Maybe a house or two. Theirs.

I don’t care about their presence. Their name. their voice. Their face. I will forget them just like I forget every matter that ing mess up with my life. But sometimes they would like force themselves into my life. Like to feel some kind of greatness maybe? Like class president. He would remember my ing name and talk to me like some old friend I never ing have. Then just as polite as I am, I would talk to him back, and try to remember his name since in conversation he will like calling my name like thrice every one minutes. Or when we bump into each other, like “Hey Taeyeon” and I have to greet him back right? I’m a good kid and a polite kid, so will say hi too with his name followed up behind that word. Although sometimes I just really sick of it then I would just replied “Oy” and walked away.

I treat my friends good. Like real good. They want space? I give them. They want silence? I give them. They want my money? I gave them. When they fall on their butts I pick them up. When they cry I rubbed their shoulder. When they mad I console them. When they hungry I offer them food. When they lost something I try to find it with them. When they forget or need something I could buy them or lend my things. When they need my help I would help them. When they tired I offer them a break time. When they have their birthday I try to always give them a presents that really good.

But life is hard. I gave them kindness they don’t see me as real friend.

Some people in the internet said real friend laugh at you when you fall and fake friend pick you up when you fall. Real friend eat all you food without permission, fake friend never ask your food. Real friend call your parents mom and dad, fake friend call your parents sir and ma’am. Sigh. What a really weird world. I could never do that, well for food maybe I ask them sometimes. I treat my friend nicely and they see me as fake. LOL. Weird, weird world.

I never understand this kind of world. My parents never taught me how to socializing. Or even sister. She is good with words; of course her friends are piling on the floor. But she got bad temper, so sometimes I witness some fight with her friend in the school. Yea I go to same school as her, but I really glad that she’s two years older. At least I just have to keep up with her for one year. Well, except elementary school, thank god I was too ignorant bratty kind of child, so I didn’t really feel her hormonal phase. I mean her mood swings.

Lol, I just remember one day she got home from a date and she got a hickey on her neck. Lol. it’s funny how everyone in the house seems like pretend to not know about it. Lol. even she was pretending like nothing happened. How awkward.

And then they were broke up. It was a mess. I mean a lot of wail, whine, tears, scream were involve.

I mean like of course it was hurt to break up with someone. I had ex-es too. I broke up with them. All boys. Because I can’t refuse. I can’t say no.

I don’t know how they like me. I was still a nerd. A happy nerd. With boyish appearance, boyish attitude, and eyes on the girls all the time. I tied my hair constantly. Well, now I got a short hair, it was nice, pleasantly nice. My scalp feels lighter, and cool. Not cool cool, but like some air floating around my scalp. It’s refreshing. I don’t regret it. It felt nice to finally have my dream hair. When my long hair was cut, I don’t feel sad, or like in the movies where they cry over their hair. My new hair was short. Really short. Not like boys’ short. But still short. When I told the hair-cutter(?), well whatever title that you called them, to cut my hairs as short as boys’ he shocked. He thinks it’s too short. But it’s my hair, right? I don’t understand them, I spend so much money over this cutting process and they told me what to do with my hair. It’s not fair at all. But I don’t want to argue. So I told him to cut whatever he likes. Then I got a curl treatment. I don’t know how or when, but yea I got that.

Then they charged me. It’s so expensive I could cry. But I survived. I looked cool in the salon’s mirror, but when I got home I don’t think I saw the same haircut like before, but I shrugged it away. Maybe someday I would shaved it. Or half-bald. It looks cool. They cut my hair like in bob-style, that’s , but that’s okay cus he didn’t make me more feminine.

--

a/n : finally! yes! finally i move to upper floor room. so i get little internet although still shutting off now and then. its okay. at least i can send assignment to friends and see pictures of SNSD and saves them. and of course to upload my stories. it's pilling up. well, not really, haha. i kinda have a little busy weeks where assignment and homeworks start to pilling up. well, being architecture student here in this campus was kinda hard, or so i told. doing everything from sketching, drafting, concepting, designing, blablablabla. lol. im still fresh thing, still have a lot of things to learn.

buttt..... i soooo happy to see 2 new subscribers.. i thought no one would. hehehe. i love you guys

well, till next update~~~ i gonna do this drafting for tomorrow offset. hehe. have a good day