Some years have passed, yet I still remember the picture of her face. Her lips linger as tattoos on my own body. I recall what she said; I believe that girl was a psychopath or autistic person. Her reaction was not normal; she was overfocused on something, definitely not me, but something else. I sensed a strange aura of determination in her voice. If I find what she was looking for, it means I will also find her. I just want responses to my own questions. Maybe we are looking for the same thing. Maybe she is also searching for answers to her own questions. At least we are on the same page. She changed me in the blink of an eye. I wake up, and she actually did nothing. I feel like some kind of stalker. Cassandra, I do not know where you are, but I am going to find you. You are going to respond to me about who you actually are. You seem not to be from this era, or even like you do not belong to this world of lies. You were more real than anything I have met inside of this world.

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