Ch. 1 - My Complicated Life

"Where is it?" I grumbled for the 'nth' time as I dug through the piles of clothing in my room, "Aha, there it is."

I pulled out a gray notebook from some unknown spot under my bed. I took out the pen that was put in the spiral binding, opened to a blank page after my last entry, and began writing out what I saw.

I guess I should really explain everything to you, but first, let me introduce myself. I'm Luna Espiritu. If you're wondering why I have a last name most of you would think is stupid, it's because I'm pinay. (Filipino female) What I was doing was writing down what I saw in my dream from last night. You see, I've been having these dreams for 7 months now. It's always about a guy about my age that likes me. Wait, no, let me rephrase. It's always about a guy who's completely and utterly in love with me. He's always taking me out places, giving me presents, and whenever I see myself arguing with him, he ends up?kissing me and apologizing. That's why I write these down. Because that's the only place it will ever happen. In my dreams, because, not to put myself down or anything, I don?t deserve that kind of guy in my dream.

You see, I've studied myself (ooo, big surprise). I'm seventeen years old, 5'4", having black hair (like all other Asians), having small yet still unmanaged sleeping and eating disorders, and I'm a hopeless romantic. I really don?t see that kind of guy in my dream ever falling for me in real life, though one problem arises with that theory. That is?I've never heard his name in my dreams, nor seen a clearly visual image of his face. For all I know, he could be in my life right now, and I wouldn't know it, that's probably why I hate my life right now. My life is filled with nothing but complications and confusions. First, I'm already struggling to keep up with my two AP classes at school, and now I have this dream thing stressing me out. I'm even surprised right now that I haven't gone insane, but who knows, it may happen tomorrow.

Anyway, back to writing in this notebook. I started writing in this notebook since two months into my dream 'period.' I write down exactly what I saw in my dream in complete and precise detail. Anything fromwhen he hugged me to parts where he would mumble thing under his breath in the background. Anything and everything would be written here. I've already filled up 7 notebooks of them, and this is going to be my 8th if it continues. I know I know, you think I'm an idiot right now, and you know what, I don't blame you. I know I'm an idiot, so no need to repeat it, but one last thing. I actually wished for this, and I still do. I really wish that this guy of my dreams would turn out to be real. I've been waiting my whole life for the perfect guy to come to me, and for once, I may have this chance. That's why I'm stressed. Why does the lord have to make it so confusing? Why can't I at least know if or when he'll come into my life?

If you're bored, I'm sorry. Let's get back into this story. Now, I'm still writing what I saw. Another thing I hate about these dreams is that they don't come in a chronological, well, no, wrong word choice. They don?t in any order whatsoever to where I can put them all together just as they come. Two nights ago, I had a dream with him taking me and (what he thinks is my) little sister out to dinner (I could tell he was in high school), but then, last night, I dreamt with him proposing to me, which would be at least about 7 to 8 years later. What happened in those years in between? But anyway, I wrote what he said in his proposal. Every single word stuck to me as if I was about to cry if it really was real.

"Oh sh-crap," I kind of stuttered. You see, me, being the idiot that I am, is trying not to curse as much as I used to. Did I forget to mention I was catholic? I'm trying not to, just for religious reasons, but sometimes, it just slips, but it was already 6:45 a.m. I'm usually at school by 7, so I was running a little bit late.

I parked my car and ran inside the 72 year old building. It was 7:25; classes would start in 15 minutes. Not that I was in a hurry, I just wanted to have at least some free time to myself to cool off, or else I'd be down and groggy for the rest of the day. Amazingly I did, since it usually did take me 10 minutes to get stuff in and out from my locker, it only took me five today, so I had a full five minutes to myself before the first warning bell rang. I know. I'm truly amazing.

So fast forwarding a little bit, my first three classes were a little bit more boring than usual, so onto lunch I went. As I vaguely said before, I have eating disorders, and this may be part of the reason why. I DO NOT eat school at lunch. Not because of the school lunches, but because of the people. Yes, the people. I don't like being surrounded by big groups of people that talk endlessly. Class is okay since you're required to be quiet, but lunch is like hell to me. Right after I put my stuff in my locker, I go into the old abandoned piano lab and played some of the pieces I played back in middle school.

So the day went one normally.

That is, until my final period. I was in my AP Anatomy and Physiology class when a new student came in. A guy, about 6'7", I could already tell he was Asian, he wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a light unbuttoned shirt on the outside serving as a jacket. I guess he was pretty good looking, but with those looks, he's probably a jock that slept with a different girl every night.

"May I help you sir?" my teacher asked.

"I just got transferred into this class," and he showed my teacher his schedule, "Alright then, please take a seat."

He searched the room for an empty seat, oh, and guess where the only empty seat in the room was. If you guessed right beside me, then you're correct. He gave me a soft smile as sat down and took out a notebook and pen to take notes on what Dr. V (My teacher) had to say.

Class had ended. It was only the third week of school, so still not much homework to worry about. I sighed as I got up out of my seat. Just as I was about to walked of the door, someone called me.

"Excuse me."

I turned around to see who it was. Oh of course, the new guy calling for me, "Yes.?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but if you have the time, could you quickly just show me to the library?"

Hmmmm, maybe I misjudged him. Not a player, jock, or basta-?I mean loser would use proper language like that. (Unless he was a really good actor) I stared at him for a moment, shifting my weight to my left leg, as if to mentally examine him like a lie detector. He was clean.

"Okay, sure," and we both walk out of the classroom together. We stayed quiet. I know, I'm a loser for not starting a conversation, but it's not like that. I'm the quiet type, to keep things to myself, not because I felt uncomfortable or anything. I was just kind of rushing to get him there so I could go home and bury myself with my pillows and blankets, to regain a part of me which I lack. (sleep)

"So what?s your name?" he asked.

"Kris?I mean Luna, sorry. I'm just used to people calling me Kris," I replied. You see, Kris is my nickname. I have no idea how I got it, but I think my best friend gave it to me in the 5th grade, "And yours?"

"Takuro."

Oh, so he was Japanese. That's pretty cool, since I'm really into manga, anime, etc, yet I've never actually met a real Japanese person.

"Nice to meet you."

He flashed a smile at me after I said that, "Likewise."

"Well here we are," I said as I stopped in front of two doors that said 'Library' above them.

"Thanks a lot," he said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

I smiled just a little. Like a Mona Lisa smile, "Sure," maybe this school year won't be that bad after all. I just stayed until he walked inside, and then I left, got stuff out of my locker, and drove home in peace.

Amazingly, I got home alive. (Notice the sarcasm?) I was greeted the usual way, by having my mother smile at me from the kitchen, my dad just nodding at me when I get home, as to acknowledge my presence, and my aunt coming down smiling at me with a seven month old baby in her hands.

"Hey sweetie," I said taking the baby out of her hands. You see, this isn't my aunt?s child. It's...mine.