A thing about having a crush, is that most of the time, you would feel like you are walking on the clouds: having heavenly feelings runs through your body like someone is injecting happy potions into your veins, making noticable effort to conceal passionate words of awe that you scream inside with a poker face (but fail effortlessly making you look like you are a pervert), having kind of like a lump not in your throat but in your heart cause there are words of emotions kept silence in that little organ which beats frantically everytime he walks by across the hall. Inside of your head is a world where nothing in the reality makes that much senses. For example, according to the theory of relativity, nothing can travel faster than light.

Well, in the world of yours, his presence can be detected at an incredible speed inspite of the fact that your eyes haven't collected image of the person to inform your brain, hell even with your eyes closed, it is the smell of his fabric softener, the sound of his footsteps, and his voice, raspy, and cracks a little everytime he laughs, but most of the time deep and soft, those things travel faster than light. Hearing him talks feels a lot like having dark chocolate melting in your throat, and looking at his smile is like lying on the grass reading your favourite book, bathing yourself in the warmth of the sun and surrounded by the freshness of newly cut grass, with your mother's sweet sweet voice humming softly the melodies of "You are my sunshine", singing at some point, and tenderly caress your back and smooth your tangled hair. Those were the summer days of my happy childhood in Vietnam, where my mother was born. She is an amazing women: always be there for me when my father out drinking, standing up for herself to get a divorce. Through all that ups and downs, there is still an admirable source of power in that woman tiny figure to remain calm and strong to raise our family, now downs to 3 people living in a small rental apartment in Sydney. My mother has a heart of gold, but rarely does she act irationally, which is why she is highly-evaluated and loved by her colleagues in a famous enterprise. As soon as she realized the connection with her once beloved husband has vanished, and his drinking is making her children's lives miserable, she couldn't care less of how people would make of her for divorcing the man she has been with for more than half of her life, keeping in her mind the first priority of her life is the future of her children. My mother calls me Sun by nickname, my last name is actually Sunderland, but i love being called Sun. She said my mission on Earth is bringing warmth of kindness to people, and reminds me of it everytime I'm feeling down,making me feel special about my existence.

"Hey , Sun, are you... coming to... this Friday party?"-Rue breathlessly talks to me hurriedly grabbing her long silky half-asian black hair into a pony tail.

"You stayed up late again didn't you obsessive bookworm?", i accuse her with a small laugh after her presence stopped my mind from wanderring.

She gathers her breath and let her words flood out. She passionately describes how empty and disappointed she felt after finding out her favourite male character in John Green's book "The fault in our stars" died in such a sad way and how she desperately needs something happy to read in order to get rid of this "book hungover"-the thing you get for reading such an emotional book and cannot escape, "I hope he writes a sequel or something, like afterwards that beautiful couple would end up in heaven and reunite." After a short pause she probably makes room for a little moment of daydream in her mind,she continues:

"Don't you think it's kind of annoying how writers create an unhappy ending, like they expect us to read for fun and forget about it? No, we live with the story and die with it. So next time if you write something romantic, at least try to end it happily, or is it too much to ask for nowadays then? It's like the writer offerring you a hand to climb on the ladder that leads to the beautiful endless blue sky, giving you a peak of how heaven looks like, then drop your hands and let you fall down to reality."

I nod, Rue sighs, both of us suddenlly fall into silence. Not too long after, Rue brightens up her face with a smile and turns to me, grabbing my shoulder:

"Well, partying is another way to have a mental getaway. So, Friday? 7? Rich-ass McKenzie's mansion?"

I almost thought she forgot about it like I did. Seeing me not being so sure,

she whispers into my ears:

"Lucky number 8 is going to be there. Just dropping it to end your over-analyzing process"

She winks and i protest:

"I'm not analyzing anything.", "and fine, i'm going" i huff.