You are not alone.

I want to turn the world around.
I want to make a difference.
Did you know that there are roughly seven billion people in this world, the planet Earth? Everybody is trying to live without living just for the sake of living.
Whether it's the sweet smell of her neck, the satisfying ring of the cash register, the stranger on the 907 bus who smiles at you from time to time or even the ploppety plop of a broken tap. You live for it. What's the point of going on otherwise?
Go a step further. Do you have something you'd die for? Do you really deserve to live if you don't have anything to die for?
Or are you out there wondering? Like a good 6.9999 billion others.. What am I here for?
Well, I want to light up the world.
Nothing more, and definitely nothing less.


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6. Sorted

"So, let me repeat this, so I understand," her tiny head tilted slowly, she looked confused, and I couldn't blame her, "You had a dream about Michael-"

"Mike," I intercepted hastily, this couldn't become a habit, "His name is Mike."

"Okay... You had a dream about Mike," she started dragging her words, it really annoyed me, but I stayed patient. I really wanted to talk about this, "But you don't have dreams. Ever. Since you came here."

I nodded. "It's not a very dreamy environment is it?"

"But you had one. This morning. With Benji and Mike." She paused and pulled out her laptop. Her eyes quickly scanned the screen, she frowned and started typing. "Okay... Where was it?"

"I know it was the school field, but it was different." It was hard to explain, I was a tiny bit tongue tied. And it wasn't because I didn't remember.

That was the funny part. I remembered the dream vividly, but as I went through the day, thinking about it up until now, it didn't seem like a dream. It seemed like a memory, a recollection, a reminiscence. Deep down, I was starting to think that it had happened before. It was driving me nuts.

How weird was it, to not know the difference between dreams and memories.

I was confused. Really confused. And talking to Eliza was helping me get it all out. I think.

"The grass looked a tiny bit greener. And it was summer I think." 

Eliza looked up from the screen and scanned my face for emotions. She probably wouldn't get anything."Well then it was probably just a dream wasn't it? Your mind was just exaggerating what you want." Meh. It seemed logical enough. "Benji was laughing, so were you and he was even playing basketball. It was summer. You were all young and healthy and happy. That's what you want." 

It made sense. To half of my brain. The other half was still confused. I don't want to refer to my heart. It's irrelevant, it won't help. Never does. I haven't listened to my heart for God knows how long. And I'm fine and sane. I have much more sense than others.

There was one little thing bugging me though. It didn't make sense.

"What was Mike doing in my dream?"

Cue awkward silence.

"Well maybe-"

"Eliza, think about this really carefully. Don't say anything that will be mildly offensive, or is just darn impossible. Don't be inaniloquent"

"Inaniloquent?"

"The act of speaking foolishly or saying silly things. Was in the B'ham Metro in '04"

"Hmmm."

She looked around, as if that was going to help. I think Eliza likes to assess the situation and atmostphere by literally keeping everything still and testing the water. But a little less like testing, more like jabbing, furiously. Like that awesome moment in "Over the Hedge", where that squirrel had caffine, and everything stood still apart from him. That was quite a good comparrison for Eliza, she reminded me of a squirrel from time to time.

"Well did you get anything good out of Benji?"

This was tricky. I hadn't told Eliza about what Benji had said, my head told me not to. I don't fully trust anyone, including Eliza. I didn't want to tell her. I didn't need to tell her. Even though she was the closest I'd ever had to a best friend. Something still said don't.

"Nothing much. Just conformation."

"Okay..." She was about to say something weird. Her voice went high pitched, she dragged her words, she was fiddling with her hands. She was going to say something, something that she thought I would disagree with. "Why don't you befriend him?"

"Mike?"

"Yeah. Mike. So you can talk. Figure out why you were thinking about him?"

That wasn't a bad idea. I wasn't totally opposed. I wouldn't be messing with feelings, because who knows, I might actually make a friend out of this. Why not?

"Yeah, okay."

"Sorted. Help me with my Art work?"

As Eliza said, sorted. 

I was back on track for doing something great.

 

 

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