Log #3

i was wounded and so was a girl friend of mine. she was shot at the back and i could see the bloody hole clearly. i didn’t know how bad my wound was, though, or how it actually looked.

luckily, we were already in a hospital’s front yard. a couple of paramedics came rushing out and ordered us to lie on our bellies on the stretchers. we had to hold on to the sides of the stretchers, like riding a bicycle. apparently, it wasn’t too much of a hassle for us for we could still talk and move normally despite the blood and all.

done with all the medical treatments, i went to a concert hall which was so huge its ceiling was actually the starry, out-of-spacey skies. to get to the upper stories, we had to climb a long stairs of meteorites. the length between each meteorites seemed further than the length of my steps and that scared the wits out of me. so i decided to sit downstairs. after all, those balcony-like meteor floors were kind of reserved for well-known local bands, like Sheila on 7 and Dewa (yeah, they were there alright!).

i sat in one of the front seats on the left wing together with my high school friends. sitting next to me was my ex-boyfriend. not long after that, my sociology teacher appeared on stage. it turned out we weren’t going to see a music concert, we were going to receive a lecture.

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