If this were a Disney movie I would say that this fic has been ‘digitally re-mastered/re-edited and now with 100% more waffle in between'.

But as it is, it’s not. :c

Zombies are just no match for Tinker Bell’s awesome fairy dust.

JUST SAYING.
/end random narration
========================


Rating: C for CRACK
Summary: They all laughed when someone said that the world was ending. They laughed even louder when the 21st came and went without a hitch. There was no holocaust, no WWIII, no famine… no excuse for the world to end at that very moment.

But what they didn’t know is that it had already started.

Can you stay alive without going mad? Can you still survive with six other people trying to drive you up the wall? Can you still manage to EXIST when all you have to rely on is a sleepy FISHERMAN, a cattish GAMER, an easily-excitable PET-LOVER, an accident-prone NEWS RESEARCHER, a sadistic PRIMA-DONNA and a mysterious girl wielding a blood-crusted FISHING ROD.

Will you be able to survive? CAN you survive?
(originally from quartered's comment prompt. ILU, even though you probably won't read this. :)))


May 22, 2011 (Sunday)

It was nothing (probably) less than destiny itself.

It was May 22. The day after the so-called ‘Rapture’, as the outly religious called it and, the ‘old-man-chalks-up-another-failed-end-of-the-world prediction-day’, to the rest of the world.

( I honestly didn’t know what to believe )

Dun dun!! LOL. So sue me, I was bored. At least I was kind of productive. :/

I think I'm lost.

Compared to old class and course mates that I have met in my 4 excruciating years in college, I'm the only one (or at least one of the few) who don't really practice writing. I mean, am I really a writer when I have no motivation to pause and write something every once in a while? 

Was journalism the right thing to take? Did someone forgot to tell me, before I enrolled in 'the-wonder-that-is-writing' course, that I should churn out at least 5 written outputs plus a literary critic on all five at the end of each month (even after graduation)?

Is my Lit Crit Professor stalking watching still grading me whenever I do my advertorials for work? D:


When I think about it I ask myself, am I still a writer? Do I stop being a writer when I "take a break" from writing? Will I ever be called a real writer if I don't write poetry, essays, prose or a book that can rival the fame, glory and spiritual controversy of the Da Vinci Code?

: /


Well, screw this. I'm gonna write me some fanfics. 8D