Hi there. I'm Erie. I'm 20 and in my graduating year in College. This is also my personal blog so I'll say anything and won't give a fuck about 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.