Thursday, November 13, 2008
Obsessed-Compulsive Disorder.

I was at the library with Dee and my mum. Turns out I wanted to pay my fees or something. Just then, 2 indian girls told me to take a picture of them until they were satisfied. You can't imagine how annoying it is. They're not even that pretty like Oprah Winfrey.

Suddenly alarms went off and everyone in the library ran around - total chaos, I'm telling you. I got seperated from my mum and Dee. I decided to make a run for it myself but a woman grabbed me along with her other family members. Don't know why. I went out and saw Sylar(if you watch Heroes, you might know who this person is). He told the woman who grabbed me to hurry. The woman led me to a bunglow across the road and opened the garage door to drive out a van. I sat with the woman's daughter. The woman drove to where Sylar was and told him to tag along.

We stopped for patrol and I was simply screaming, "Where are we going? I wanna go home now!" Sylar touched my face - well, more like soothing my cheeks - and told me to calm down. After that, I was too afraid to say anything else. Suddenly me and Sylar were like, best friends, talking non-stop in the van.

A while later, we stopped at Dee's house. So I was kinda relieved I knew where I was. We all hurried into Dee's place and the rest went into the master bedroom's toilet while Sylar kept an eye on me from the back. I decided to go to the one in the kitchen. Someone from behind me, turned on the kitchen lights for me and then grabbed my wrist, saying, "Nikky, I'm trying to save you."
And it was Peter Petrelli. (Again, if you've seen Heroes, he would be darn familiar to you)

And then...

I WOKE UP! HAHAHA! Of course it was a dream, suckers.


In case you're wondering, that's "Peter Petrelli" and "Sylar".
I know its crap. I just like the toilet part because it was hilarious it had to be Dee's place just for a toilet.
See, this is what happens when you watch too much TV and get addicted. Pfft.
Like, who?

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20th January, Singaporean

I pen down fantasy stories of my own,
chill out to junky music,
I love to draw (ends up looking crappy),
sing as if I'm in American Idol,
ain't a girly girl.

And beware of my very very mean self-conscience.
It might make you hate me more than any other shit.

Don't hesitate, honeys.
myneuronik@hotmail.com

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