Hi there. I'm Erie. I'm 20. This is also my personal blog so I'll say anything and won't care what you're going to say.
For me, the difference between fiction and life is that fiction make sense, and life? i dont know.
Problems in stories get resolved, i could manipulate how it will be solved, replenish paleness,
make beggar a princess, even a horse be a prince.
All night i sat with my ballpen and paper and tried to order the universe.
All night and mornings I paid attention to the troubles of Made up people. But with my life?
Sometimes i became passive.
It is normal. Isnt it?
when I was around 10 or 11, my mother came into my room to tell me to turn out the lights, bedtime.
I was reading bambini angel. She snapped off the light and said "try not to think of ASWAng" and
ofcourse I thought of Aswang. I said "why?" she closed the door. For the first time in my life
I realized that my brain has a mind on its own, and there was a little I could do to controll it.