9AM. Wake up. 10AM. Eat. 11AM. Curse lungs for not being good lungs. 12NN. Eat. 1PM. Read a book. 3PM. Enviously look out of the window to see the usual group of friends hang out. 4PM. Decrease life further by shitting on lungs through cigarettes. 6PM. Curse (again) life and it's doucheyness. 7PM. Eat. 8PM. Sleep. Repeat. Frank Zhang is dead. Well, specifically, dying, but still dead, considering that he will be in three months. As the remaining days of his life become thinner and thinner, he is left to face his end with a monotonous routine (often filled with fits of rage here and there) and a three month supply of Cheetos. But once a wild-haired stranger with golden eyes disrupts his routine, and invade his dreams, will Frank be willing to put everything on hold?

i screamed at the top of my lungs, but your insecurities are louder. ©silkyguk [on hold]

"Are you some kind of emotionless, robotic, alien?" "Are you some kind of mindless, dumb, zombie?" I, Winona Alastor Mavis had spent most of my life contemplating on why in utter hell I couldn't feel the things the other kids could feel. While the other teens my age frolicked around and got laid, I was at my house reading. While the other girls were excited about Channing Tatum or Ruby Rose, I was excited about dragons and fantasy. And when I finally knew the answer, it had led me to a life of people not taking me seriously and fighting the urge to not shove a book down their throats or go all Janis from Mean Girls up in their ass. I am ASEXUAL, not AROMANTIC-and yes, I'm still a functioning human being with a stable life and definitely not an high-functioning sociopathic alien. I'm not AROMATIC either, and I am definitely not AUTOMATIC, SYSTEMATIC, and HYDROMATIC-why then I'd be GREASED LIGHTNINGGG. Don't be stupid. I'm not a car, either. *coughs* And yeah, I deeply apologize for that Grease reference.