Remind Me Again

011

Hey guys! I’d like to thank you for reading Remind Me Again even though this story is such a joke to the planet. Hahaha I really appreciate those people reading this story and I also would like to thank you for the patience you have exerted in understanding this novel and the insanity of the author. Bwehehe Anyways, I’d like to thank my F.O supervisor also if ever she is really reading this story—I don’t know. But I don’t want her to know that her employee is actually the author of this book. Toink. Time bomb explodes! Still I appreciate her using the name “Boy George” to call me and my colleagues at work. It really fascinates me every time she does that. I thank her for doing that because it keeps me and reminds me that this story is still alive and running. :)

Happy reading folks!

B.B

011  (Tamara’s POV)

“It’s too cold outside for angels to fly.”

~A Team; Ed Sheeran

January 14, 2012

I woke up with the late winter air to fill in my lungs and trickle my skin. I was fascinated to see the smoke coming out of my breath. I was like a child fancying her first snow flake on a winter day. But I wasn’t twelve. I don’t remember being twelve. But then I think I’m seventeen but I don’t know how to be seventeen. Is it like the magazine with the same title or is it like the Plastics in Mean Girls like Regina George? Anyway, I don’t want to think about it. So I just stick to the thought of the smoke coming out of my lips like smoke from a chimney. I waited for Santa Claus but then again, I forgot that he only comes down from a chimney not my mouth and we’re in the month of January not December anymore.

I feel lost.

I don’t know where I am. These four walls of my room tell me that I wasn’t in my own room in my own house but in some place either I or my parents decided me to be.

I am in a four corner room in a boring four poster bed. This is not a very great introduction of me narrating my very first chapter in the part two of “Remind Me Again” but then the author started to go melodramatic in this story that she had my amnesia of what to write next. So until she remembers her sarcastic ideas let us just stick to the drama while we’re trying to cope up and be alive. This introduction of mine is actually based on the center part of my memory where I can ironically remember which I am telling you now before I forget about it. I don’t know how I remember this fortunate, psychiatric incident in my life but I just do remember. It’s somewhere in my head and it’s a very complicated thing to explain how my mind does that. It’s quite complicated because we are disrespecting and violating the laws of Science and a bit of fiction. Did you get my point to this? (o.O)

No? ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)

(ﾉ￣д￣)ﾉ Never mind.

I walk to my window, I put my bare feet on the floor and it sent me the same chills to the skin when I woke up. So I pulled on my sweater and I went back to the subject called: the window since it was the second thing that gained the train of my sight aside from the old painted white and boring ceiling. The window was what interested me because it was smoky and I like it that way. I drew an angel on the window and I took a stall and I admired my preschool like stick drawing on the window like Picasso had visited my room and drew it.

I imagined fluffy clouds around it and then I hear it speak.

“Shit!” it says.

Wait a second… （￣□￣；）