It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It was Christmas again, after twelve years.

They'd spent the last twelve years trying to rebuild what has been lost, destroyed when their homes were invaded.

Almost everyone lost someone dear. Almost everyone took those twelve years to heal what they could, and bury those they could not.

Those twelve years had been devastation. No one could celebrate, no one could muster up enough happiness and cheer to celebrate.

Who can, when you know you're the only one left in this world?

But hope came, in the form of a girl and her friends, who'd lived the last twelve years as they had, alone, desperate, depressed.

And in this last few months, they've rebuild the lost confidence, the lost houses, the loss of whatever warms the heart.

Now, as the red and green lights shone again after twelve long years, they know, finally, that it's time to let go.

He stared at the lights in the distance. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," he said quietly.

She smiled and wraped her arms around his. "Yes. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It was Christmas again, after twelve years.

They'd spent the last twelve years trying to rebuild what has been lost, destroyed when their homes were invaded.

Almost everyone lost someone dear. Almost everyone took those twelve years to heal what they could, and bury those they could not.

Those twelve years had been devastation. No one could celebrate, no one could muster up enough happiness and cheer to celebrate.

Who can, when you know you're the only one left in this world?

But hope came, in the form of a girl and her friends, who'd lived the last twelve years as they had, alone, desperate, depressed.

And in this last few months, they've rebuild the lost confidence, the lost houses, the loss of whatever warms the heart.

Now, as the red and green lights shone again after twelve long years, they know, finally, that it's time to let go.

He stared at the lights in the distance. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," he said quietly.

She smiled and wraped her arms around his. "Yes. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

Almost Christmas

Five more days. Five more 24-houred, I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing days and it'll be Christmas with the New Year hot on its heels.

It's been a tumultuous year, what with SPM results and scholarships frenzies and the new school and friends. It's almost like I've got a new life, and without knowing, I've considered it my life for a long time now.

Scary, isn't it? My life a few months ago, staying at home, reading/writing fanfiction, waiting for results, applying for scholarships... It all seemed like another life, centuries ago. Like something you look back on after several decades, but was actually a few months ago.

I've been reading Eragon these past few days, and there was a sentence inside, something about Eragon looking back to life in Carvahall and feels like it's was another life, when it'd been only a few months he found Saphira. I'd thought nothing about it--god knows how many books have used that line.

But then I started writing this and... it came back. I'd never really understood it before, but now, I wonder.

Does big changes do that to you? Make a few days feel like years, and mere months became decades; make your previous life (be it months before or days before) feel like a dream?

Remember how we used to flip through these quotes and exclaim excitedly over the wonderful phrasing, the pleasing ring at how the words sound together, the picture it conjures? But how many times have we truly understand the quotes?

But growing up does that to you. It leads you across many many stages of life and various turns of events, experiences, and without knowing it, you go through exactly what those quotes say. And someday you'll come across the same quote you've read so many many years ago and find that you actually understand it.

That you actually can put yourself in that position and say the same thing.

Growing up isn't as fun as it was when we were three, or eleven, or even when sixteen. It wasn't about being able to tower over little kids (I skipped this part though. Unfortunately). It wasn't about being able to wear those blood-red high heels and elegant, long dresses and trench coats that the actresses and singers wear. It wasn't about being able to see the world.

Those are all parts of growing up, but not the definition of it. Not when you finally realised you're all grown up. Or almost.

Growing up would be the process of realising you have to live your life on your own, stand on your own feet, make your own decisions, and not rely on people to do that for you. You'll get help along the way, you'll get friends and advices. But you'll be alone when you live. You'll take the consequences alone. And those consequences aren't going to be a tap on the wrist, or simple lecture-off-your-ears anymore.

That is what leads you to understand those quotes, to actually say you've been through it.

And it ain't a trip in cotton wool either. As I said, big changes shapes your life, and eventually shapes these quotes. Changes are scary too, 'cause you'll never know what awaits. It could be a trip down hell for all you know.

How do you think people wrote those quotes, anyway? They don't jump out randomly. As Brom said, you can't scry what you haven't seen. (Okay. Danger alert. Eragon, go away.)

It's a lifelong process, eh, growing up? Just because you're 50 doesn't mean you're done growing. It's here *taps head* and here *taps chest where heart is* that matters.

So, Christmas. It must be something more, according to Taylor Swift. It could be this, coming another step closer to growing up.

OR it could simply be receiving new things and presents. :-)

So here's my present to you : Choose a quote, and tell yourself that every morning. Eventually you'll believe it. Eventually it'll come true. You could start with "I will give Vivien one dollar everyday as a kind act". *raise eyebrow* Ha. No, a good example would be "I will smile today no matter how much Vivien (or insert name here) pisses me off.*

ORRR, you could ignore me. XD I won't take offence.

Much.

Random Piallo (Piano cello)

Remember Jon Schimdt and Steven Sharp Nelson from Love Story vs Viva la Vida? The one that had so many people picking up piano and cellos and started learning? Well, they're back! (Not that they'd been gone or missing; just off my watch list. But now they're back!)

It's wonderful, their arrangement of the songs, their own rendition. I'm gonna put a few videos up, and hope you enjoy them instead of my ramblings. :)

The one that got them back on my watchlist. Rolling rolling rolling up to the top. :)

The one that prompted me to blog about this. Without you indeed. 

The newest, coolest, most colourful bows I've ever seen.

And for the last one, the jaw-dropper, the best rendition on piano I've ever seen, and the fastest fingers I've ever seen *drumroll*

JARROD RADNICH! Filmed under the Pianoguys, a little out of topic for the lack of cello, but otherwise awesome, I present to you the best rendition of Pirates of the Carribean.

Thus, I bid you au revoir for now, and Enjoy!

Even circles do end.

It's barely been a blink of the eye, yet the end of year crawls near, marking the first five (or so) months I've been here, at INTEC. we've made new friends, new memories, and tried our best to keep our old ones. Running around like some madwoman,  yeah, I think I've sort of managed both all right. *cheers* :)

So, while there are about a thousand and one stories (okay, okay. Don't shoot me. I'm not the most frequent blogger if you REALLY squint, but quality, eh? Not quantity.) about my old friends, and I hope this doesn't comes off as if I'm trying to brush off my old high school friends, but it really is time I should rant about the new friends that's I've made and how (un)lucky I am to have met them.

Right. I'm ranting.

So, there are like a ton of geniuses in this new 'school' of mine, so, I don't really have to go into all those self-deprecating statements and depressing emotions concerning schoolwork and tortures of that sort. So let's just move on to the types of geniuses you find in my class.

Well, first of all, of course there would be the "start ahead, stay ahead, study ahead" type. I wouldn't go so far to say they are nerdy, 'cause sometimes they are fun and amusing in their own way. Try quieting down and spend your time listening in to their conversations (am promoting eavesdropping here! But not on me. ) and you'll find that, wow, these people think so differently! Of course, there's also a few times you might nod off during eavesdroppings sessions due to excessive Bio/Chem/Physics input, but hey. It's worth it. :) At least you learn something. And they have such weird sense of humour! Try telling them a joke and see how they react.

Right. I'm having too much fun. Moderation, Vivien, Moderation.

Did I mention it was also fun to tease them and watch them get all serious over the "jokes" we made at their expenses?

Yeah. Fun. 


Then, comes the "I'm hungry" types. Every time there's food, even in the middle of class, they'll be the one gawking hungrily, salivating endlessly, dropping not-so-subtle hints about their wants and needs. Can't really say I'm one of those, but yeah. There's them. :)

Then the gossipers. Oh my. These are the ones you'd want to stay clear of, though I'm one of them. Dang. Being an insider makes my information and warnings even more precious, don't you think so? The pinnacle of misinterpretation  DELIBERATE misinterpretation, these people pinpoint your weaknesses and attack without so much of a blink of mercy. Right. Bunch of wolves, these people.

I mean, we're just a brood of cute, harmless rabbits. Yeah.

They--I mean, we're actually not that vicious, just when fresh new faces and fresh new blood enters. *shrugs* animalistic instincts, eh?

Then there's the party kinda guys. Life seems to be nothing but partay for this bunch. Sure they go around bitching about life and homework, but seriously, they are doing nothing but clubbing all day. And they bitch about life. Seriously? Get a life. Don't whine.

And then there's the "Got-NO-Money-need-you-to-buy-me-a-drink" bunch, which, if you ask me, is a lousy pick-up line. But I'm pretty sure it's not for picking up girls/boys. It's for.... I'm not sure what's it for anyway. Gotta go around and ask them someday. These people's brains are a bloody maze, and I don't wanna get caught/lost/crazy in that place. *shudders* who knows what lurks inside?

And the rest, well, I'm sure they fall somewhere in between the "I'm pretty crazy" and the "I'm bloody bonkers" group.  I'm pretty sure it's rather annoying sometimes, being in denial of your level of craziness, but sometimes that's what spices up life. But they're on their way to the ultimate peak of I'm-Making-No-Sense-'N-I-Lurve-It, I'm sure. They can't withstand our attack long enough. *cackles*

Ah, the joys of studying. Or rather the lack of joy. That's where classmates/crazed-serial-killers/crazed-JB-fans come in, I guess. Make you laugh when you're crying in desperation at your textbook, make you smile when you're glaring at your textbook, make you giggle when you're muttering curses/I-Don't-Want-To-Know-What under your breath at a teacher.

At least that's what I think.

Infatuation, Admiration and Crushes

I'll admit to having 'fallen in love' many times. It's hard not to, what with my easy obsession. I've 'crushed' on people I've never seen before, people who doesn't know I exist, people who's just that close, but I never could have reached.

More so, considering that I think all guys who can carry a tune, with his fingers or his voice, incredibly cool.

I've been secreting this away inside me, and that's sort of the darkest side of me. Then I thought, why secret it away? Didn't I complain I care too much? It's the best way to start, eh?

Uh, to be frank, no. But *shrugs* whatever.

Actors and singers aside, I've had only one or two people I sort of admire. Not the "idol" kind, but... Yeah. You get it.

Right. So what if all of them can carry a wicked tune on their choice of instruments? It's incredibly cool, alright? I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in thinking that.

But these are just admiration, right? It's just plain, Wow, they can do that and it's cool! , right?

But it's got me thinking. Is there a line that separates the three? Infatuation, admiration, and crushes? I mean, there's gotta be something you admire in your crush that made you fall head over heels, right?

All my life I've been raised in an all-girls school. Hell, even all of my near cousins are girls. That's sort of why I don't really find girls who can carry tunes cool, maybe because I've seen many. Maybe because it's not that far out of reach. Even I can carry a tune, somehow. *giggles crazily*

I don't really know the difference between the three. What actually is infatuation? How do admiration and infatuation differ? Argh.

Why are these things haunting me?


I must admit though, I've never really thought of that before this. Before all of this... fanfiction. Well, maybe once or twice, but still. It's weird, but maybe it's a part of growing up. Maybe it's a part of all this... going-into-the-community-after-being-locked-in-a-girls-environment thing. You get it.

Girls school, meet your negative side.

I think--still do, mind you-- that falling in love is a slow long process, that you won't know you're in love. But I also think that it makes your heart beat like crazy when you see that ONE person. Hmm.

Well, since I haven't found someone that can really make my heart beat, I'm gonna stick to admiration for now. I"ll see if I"m brave enough to conquer my fear of your opinions when I actually meet that someone.

Cheers.

Sometimes I just want to hide.

Sometimes I just wanna lock myself away in some far away room where only me and myself exist. Only me, my books, my music. Nothing else.

I used to be able to do just that, to lock myself in my room, escape from all those people, all those work; all the hustle bustle of life in general.

It's what a coward would do, I suppose. To hide away oneself.

But sometimes I can't stand it. I'm not brave. I'm not courageous. I'm the very definition of a coward where it matters. I'm weak, I'm fearful, I'm cowardly.

Sometimes I get this strange urges to just cry, with no reason at all. But I never do. Because I'm weak, because I'm too afraid of what people will think of me. I don't like to cry in front of others; maybe that's because it's the only way I can be brave for once.

But now, I don't find that courage even to just hide myself away. Even when I put on my ear phones, I leave space for other sounds and noises to enter. I don't hide myself away in my room anymore.

 I'm afraid of what'll happen when I lose myself in my world. I'm afraid what people will say when I'm not listening.

It's weak of me. To want to please. To want to make everyone happy.

Sometimes I just want to not care.

But I never could. I always did care..

And I hate it.

Growing with Goodbyes (The End of Semester 1)

Another phase of our life.

Gone, in the blink of an eye.

Saying goodbye is hard; maybe it's because of letting go. That was what I believed in, and perhaps, I still do. This is a different sort of goodbye, many would say, probably because it's hard on the heels of 24-hour-studying torture. It's the last paper, everyone, and now it's gone, cast away as yet another strand of those silvery things Rowling called memories.

Not to say I'm not euphoric; God knows I am. But now, as I sit down and write this, the room deathly silent save for the "A Thousand Years" music blasting from my computer speakers, things...change. It's the end of sems, and it's mid-November. A few more weeks, it'll be the end of the year and another goodbye. Seems like those SPM results-waiting times were things of the past, years and years ago, when it'd only been a few months.

I distinctly remember being reluctant to let go of the past - waking up everyday at six, putting on my uniform, heading for endless classes in the school filled with blue pinafores and white shirts. I remember being all melancholic about leaving home; I remember being nervous about living alone.

It's all so different now, seeing all those new faces in class, depending on yourself (and your roommate) to wake you up, feeling so fed up about choosing something to eat. People roam around the whole college with ease, with no worries about being chastised. Sleeping in class, eating in class, all those prohibited, forbidden actions now freely carried out. Having new lecturers of a really really wide variety, homework which don't really need to be handed in, fresh faces to be bullied and tease, being bullied and teased, new perspectives, new experiences, a deeper understanding of what it meant to be united despite your color or accents...

All those things that would have had a Form-five-me raising my eyebrows with wonder; now it's second nature.

These are the things that we'd look back at when we leave again, just as we'd looked back on our secondary life before we came here. Something --and the only thing-- that can be held on to, as proof that we'd existed, that this life existed.

It's been so long, yet so short. I've come so far--as is the case with everyone, I believe-- in such short time, merely six months. It's been a long journey, one filled with both wonders and excitement of the unknown. There had been so much I'd learnt, along with new and old friends alike, in this long-short journey of growing up.

Time really does fly, doesn't it? *sighs*



Now it's the end of first sem, then it's goodbye to INTEC, and--God willing--we'll be off to some other country. Next thing you know, we're adults, then old folks, and then... nothing but memories.

Maybe I'm just being stupid, holding on to things that can't be held on to. But it's those things that are worth holding on to, isn't it? Trying to hold on to time, to moments that have passed, to the smiles that pass in the fraction of a second, to the little wrinkles in time that slowly forms like the soft erosions against the smooth pebble.

But it's impossible, and that's what makes it even more precious. We cannot hold on to things past, nor something as intangible as time.

We can only bid goodbye, then walk away.

Saying goodbye this time isn't that hard. It's all smiles and laughter this time, unlike the first few "first times" that had us bidding farewell to the comfort of familiarity with tears in our eyes. Perhaps it's because there's no apparent loss in comfort nor familiarity. Perhaps it's because everyone is looking forward to regaining whatever semblance of the old familiarity at the place called home.

But there will be tears, eventually. Someday in the future we'll look back at this first semester and go, "Why does everything go by that fast?" And we'll wish we could come back to this stage of semi-adultness, with everything in a semi stage; the contaminated innocence, the confused feelings of love and hurt, the mixed joy of letting go and first times.

But I guess that's life, eh? GOodbyes and Hellos and what-nots. Everything's gotta end someday.

Thus, it's with a semi-heavy heart I bid this first--exciting, breathtaking, inspiring, and everything that's related to this wonderful phase of mixed rojak--semester :

Thanks for the memories,

and Goodbye.

Remember

I don’t remember anymore

The sliding sheets across my skin

When you mumble in your sleep

And pull away my side of the blankets in the night

I don’t remember anymore

The wafting scent of eggs

When you said you’re hungry

And spent your morning in the kitchen scrambling eggs

I don’t remember anymore

The warm roughness of your hands

When you brush across my fingers

Trying to teach me how to create magic on the piano keys

I don’t remember anymore

The soft pattering on the floor

As you tread across the room

In the morning trying not to wake me up.

I don’t remember anymore

Your soft moans of pain

When you tried to hide it from me

And I was crying outside your door trying not to let you know

I don’t remember anymore

The soft reassuring smile on your lips

As you tried to convince me you’re alright

When we both know, without any doubt, that you’re not okay

I don't remember anymore

Your soft fluttering breath

When you brushed your lips across my ears

Telling me it's okay to let you go.

I don’t remember anymore.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to remember the twisted agony

As you fought away the invaders in your body

I don’t remember anymore

Or I keep telling myself so

‘Cause I don’t want to see you falling

Deep into that unending sleep again and again.

I don’t remember anymore

I repeat it in my sleep

As I eat, as I drink, as I cleared out the wardrobe that held your stuff

I repeat it as I breathe.

I don't remember anymore.

I don't remember you anymore.

Stalking Mr E

Yeah. Just decided that too few words can't actually bring out that..... "thing" sufficiently. I blame someone's blog post for that.

So.

What do you think of stalkers? Scary? Eerie? Mean? Weird? Or just plain annoying?

Well, I used to think they were all of that up there. Which is saying, yup, I've been stalked before. It's sort of like those times when you feel like you could just cut open their brains and see what the hell do they want, or why the hell are they following each sneeze and each step you take. Sometimes, though, it makes you wanna hide in a corner and never come out. 

But now...

I'm on the other side now. I'm, proudly, officially, a stalker. 

I am very tempted to point fingers at others for this strange... habit... I'd developed, but no. Others can't make me fall in love. Or have a crush. Or whatever that concerns the heart. 

It wasn't really that bad at first. See, we had our first meeting, supposedly, during my Orientation week, which was fab by the way, and he was one of the popular facilitators who conducted the meetings and gatherings. My friends and I, namely the ever eyebrow-raising YY, and of course, Beauty-Queen-Stalker GY, and our new gossip queen/ matchmaker MR, started this stupid game.

Or should I say, Beauty-Queen-Stalker GY started the game? 

But that's another story I'll keep. For now.

Back to our story.

You see, there were a few quite good-looking guys out there in front, trying to get all of us monkeys in control and conduct the gatherings properly. And us, being typical teenage girls deprived of books-and-other-boredom-chasing-stuff began matchmaking. Of course, it was totally one sided, and everyone, being typical teenagers, denied the matches made, even though some of them was rather, shall I say, thrilling. 

So yeah. YY got paired with our ever charming jabberjay (for quite a long time too, shall I say), GY with the celebrity-lookalike, and me, yup, you guessed it. Mr E.

I can't say that I wasn't thrilled. I can't even say I didn't deny it. I denied everything, of course, though some times (especially like NOW) it's kinda cool when you think back of it. Funny too. My objections 'fight' wasn't as intense as the others though (YY and the Jabberjay, GY and the Lookalike) but then again, the gossip flying through the air about YY and GY were far greater in intensity than mine. 

I didn't have to put up much of a fight. :) And boy, am I thankful for that! Hell hath no fury like a woman in denial! 

So back to the reason why I've been initiated into the ranks of Stalkers.Co. You see, Me and my classmates, we were supposedly attending an event and celebrating our act-- which went beautifully, by the way-- when Mr E came out, complete with the dazzling smile. 

Well, I wasn't really dazzled, then, but still. 

I was still fidgeting around with the uncomfortable costume and giggling away when he started. Oh my. I don't think I can fully describe what I felt then. It was like someone had suddenly turned off all the music and only one tune filled the air. His tune. 

I think pretty much everyone knows I love music(among other things), and I admire almost everyone who makes beautiful music. I'd fallen in love with so many musicians out there I've lost count, but none of them, as near as this. 

Ok, I'll admit, I've heard better, but still. I had lots of peer pressure around me. *wags finger at classmates*

Anyway, the night passed, and he was soon forgotten.

Or was he?

In our group during this Co-curricular thing we have going on, I was put in charge for the publicity towards the seniors,  about this event we were running. Thus, our paths crossed again. Now, keep in mind that he was forgotten (well, almost) after that night, and I was caught in the throes of nightmarish topic tests and unfinished homework. I didn't give the task (publicizing the event to the seniors) much thought, until two of my classmates came along. 

I figured the word 'classmates' was too tame. I'm gonna refer to them as 'tigresses' from now on.

So this two tigresses found out about my task, and figured, hey! Since Mr E's among the seniors, why not go together and get peeks and glances of him through the window while dear Vivien hauls her a** up to the third floor and work on the publicity job?

They did, eventually, helped me to collect donations and stuff, and I'm infinitely grateful, but still. It's the 'motivation' behind the whole thing that mattered. Not to say I didn't appreciate the support they gave. Some of the classes were just plain scary.

So yeah. We went for a few times, and me, being the coward I was when it comes to meeting strangers, couldn't bring myself to interrupt the classes going on. So we strolled along the corridors like haunted ghosts until they had their break. And as I went into his class...

Shall I stop here? No? Aw, Dang it. My fingers were getting numb.

As I went into his class, I asked to see the representative of the class. Surprise surprise. He was the one. (as in the class rep, not the 'ONE' , you romantic idiots) I shall take pride in saying I totally kept my cool while I explained what I was supposed to, when my tigress friends were positively drooling. It wasn't much of an accomplishment, since I wasn't even entertaining the notion of admiring his talents. 

Yet.

And then he started to talk. 

Oh. 

My.

God. 

The way he held himself when he talks, and the way he exudes total confidence and a willingness to help... He was polite, he was convincing, he was charismatic, he speaks clearly, fluently and maintains eye contact throughout the conversation, attentive; he exudes the air of someone who wants to help. He speaks not too loudly, yet the tone held something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

The first thing he said when he came out was something along the lines of, "This is about the charity run, right? Here's the thing..." And he went on to explain the activities they had planned on that day, sounding almost apologetic, but not quite. Argh. I don't remember anyway. It was all fuzzy.

Funny. Things seldom get fuzzy.

Oh, wait. They do. A lot. Usually when I doze off into dreamworld.

And then he said something along the lines of, "you want six, right? I can force them if you want..."

Yup. I guess that was it. I mean, I'm a class representative myself, and I know how hard it is to try to get people to join things and activities (note TRY), and also to go about it in a way that they don't get unhappy or angry. But he used the word force, in perfect confidence. (and I probably should mention he looked perfectly cool. Like those leading roles in Korean Dramas where the guy is a rich and capable manager or some thing similar.)

*eyebrows raised*

 It's all I've ever dreamed of being. I admire it, the ease with which he holds himself with. I guess I've always been a little self-conscious and a little too rule-following that I'd rarely break rules. I never had the total ease and confidence he exudes when I had responsibilities like being the class representative, or a leader. I doubt myself a lot and I try to keep everyone happy to the best of my abilities. I know I can't keep everyone happy, but I still try, because, after all, you're gonna have to work with them.

But this... I might not know the history behind the ease and the confidence, I may not know how he gets along with the others, but what I do know is, if I were the boss, I'd like someone like that to be my employee. I don't know. Maybe this is the main cause of my initiation into Stalkers.Co, maybe it was the singing thing. 

Probably a combination of both though.

That was when I began to feel really happy with the publicity job I've been given. I could pass by that class with a reason (else I'd never haul all xx kilos of me up to the third floor) and I could speak to him and see that again.

It's all rather crazy, you might say. 

I would agree with you. Totally. 

What's more, with those two tigresses fanning the fire (oh boy, those two were really really infatuated. I wasn't even that bad. And god knows, I'm bad enough. Peer pressure really is powerful, especially when those two are in.) and the combined stress of exams and unfinished homework, I decided I need to walk around a bit and get the publicity job done as soon as possible.

Excuses, excuses. 

But me being typical me, I didn't dare to even steal a glance at him. And maybe I'm just not really that keen on stealing glances. (who am I kidding?) I don't do stares. I don't do gaping. All I did was take a fleeting glance and then turn my gaze to the other people in the class to make it seem like I'm addressing the whole class, which I'm supposed to do anyway. Even when passing by, I make it seem like I'm checking to see if the teacher's teaching. I guess I'm just trying to be as subtle as possible.

Successful? Or not? You can't ask me. I won't know. Ask him. But tell me before you do. I wanna be there. 

Then again, maybe not. Dangerous waters, this is.

Sigh. I guess I'm not in love LOVE. I'm just admiring. And maybe it's just the hormones.

But all I know is, I've finally had a first in stalking. (mild stalking, really! I don't think about it every second, I don't notice him until those two tigresses point him out. Those two are the real stalkers. I'm really telling the truth. I swear on Severus Snape's most expensive ingredient. ) It's not really stalking, really, but I'm classifying it as such.

Admiring from a distance eventually equals to stalking. Everyone has a first, and this is mine.

And I'm liking it every second.

P.s. Doesn't mean I approve of other people stalking me. I'll cut your throats out, I will.