Her Voice. 
Jiyeon.

Legend says when you can't sleep at night it's because
you're awake in someone else's dream. 
- A Japanese Legend

I sit here. I sit here. And I sit here. 

There's really no way I can move, either. It feels like all my motivation has been completely out of me. That's what they do to you here. I can't blame them. It's not like they're taking me away from anything.

Oh. 

There is always that someone, though.

Being the love of my life, she resides in a specific place in my heart that never, ever disappears. If that were to happen, then I wouldn't have a reason to live anymore. She is the only reason why I'm still here. 

I would have ended a long time ago. If it hadn't been for her. 

The love of my life. 

She is my everything. I see her every night and day. She's always with me. I ignore those around me who find our connection blind and uncontrolled. They don't know anything. Every word that escape their ugly lips only meet with deaf ears. 

Am I not able to hear?

You must be underestimating me. 

I only pretend that I am handicapped in such a way. Though, I yearn for it to be true. Those voices are too powerful. They're not like hers. 

It's not exactly gentle, yet it holds a soothing ring that eases me no matter the situation.

Familiar. 

That's what it is. It reminds me of her. Now, of course I see her every waking and sleeping moment, but sometimes that is not enough. Despite that, my dreams are blissful. I look forward to the time where I can close my eyes and see her as a whole new person. In my mind she is entirely different. Not necessarily in a poor way, nor a favorable way either. 

All in all, she is oddly perfect. Every single soul has a flaw or two. She was no exception. My love, perhaps, had the most flaws out of any being I was familiar with. Physically? She was flawless. Anything else? There was always something, wasn't there?

I preferred that. 

Dreams refuse to make anything or anyone inferior. They're made to be pleasant, unless you allow those false ideas to control your mind. Those will only bring maddening nightmares. Sadly, they are difficult to keep under control. 

Feelings. Thoughts. Emotions. Ideas. Actions. Images. Events. Almost anything. 

All of those can, in some unique or unpredictable way, control you. 

Nonetheless, for as long as I can see or think back to, I've been able to easily control what business took place in my imagination... Or dreams. 

Imagination does lead to dreams, after all. 

Those plastic-friendly faces with equally as fabricated voices feed you your "help". With that thing lodged in you, every single person is silent. Unless you disagree with your "help", which can be common. Whether a person is aware of it or not, it changes you still. It may not be obvious, it's probably better that you don't. 

With this "help" you're not yourself. Everything is more distinctive, for some very odd reason. 

Not many complain. Not many can. It is not their place to voice for themselves. Here, we have all given up voices to receive this sometimes useful "help". At least it numbs you. 

At least it doesn't seize my images from appearing. 

If they were gone then I wouldn't want to be here. My after life would be more bearable compared to a mind without dreams. 

Dreams. 

Ah, that is where I told her to meet me, wasn't it? As if reality wasn't good enough. It never is. I'm contradicting, I'm receptive to that. Maybe that's one of the many reasons I have found myself here... For once in my pointless life. 

You are probably pondering over what I am even speaking about. I would gladly try to explain in ways that you can comprehend, but that is impossible. For, I don't even know what I'm saying more than half the time. My words have suddenly sounded oddly peculiar. They always have, I'm sure. She, at least, understood. 

I guess I have lost my understanding to myself. 

I am lost, if you weren't aware. That's a main reason why I'm here. It's because I'm lost. I can't survive in the normal world with a wandering mind like my own. Not only that, a voice speaks to me often. Not always. It's just often. Whispered, dark thoughts consume me. At this point I'm used to it. It's nothing new to my bizarre self. 

My dreams have also taken control. They distract me when it comes to any activity I'm required to perform. Or, simply, normal tasks that an average person ends up doing every day. 

I'll undertake anything I am supposed to, or expected, but my mind isn't always there. It wanders. Far, far away. When I have finished whatever duty, my mind will still be away, usually.

Those plastic faces have a frustrating time getting me to come back to them. 

That's ok. 

In my mind or not, I can still see her. Beautiful and great to be with. She visits me as often as she is able. 

It makes me upset, though. 

What does? 

People shoot us weird looks. 

It doesn't make any sense to why they would, either. They find me utterly foolish, I understand that. It's the rude, confused-looking filled eyes and expressions that attract my eyes. Predicted as usual, they look in another direction, right aw