Imagination Lirik

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.

When the heat wave hit, I was working at the National Weather Service and was the first to spot the climate irregularities. I warned my family to get ready ahead of time. My parents trusted me without question. They even proposed starting a "family survival fund." They told me to use the savings I'd built up since graduating to stock up on supplies, promising that they and my little sister would chip in every dollar they had too. If we were going to make it, we had to stick together as a family. I smiled. "Sure. I'll take care of the plans." That same night, I converted every penny into gold and locked it in a safe. I also went all out into building an apocalypse-proof bunker. When doomsday finally came, they showed up demanding the money we'd pooled together. "Hand over all the gold," they said coldly. "A deadweight like you is just wasting resources by staying alive." Smiling, I tossed them the safe with the gold inside, then sealed the bunker, locking them out completely. Laughing triumphantly, they opened the safe… and stared in shock at what they saw inside.

I transmigrated into a trashy, tragic romance as the vicious side character. By the time I arrived, the story had already reached its ending. I had caused the female lead to lose her SAT opportunity, and my two older brothers forced me to my knees. My eldest brother, Lucas Sherman, beat me mercilessly with a stick. He hissed, "Slap yourself 1000 times before you can get up." My older brother, Charlie Sherman, threw a bottle of pesticide at me. He spat, "Someone as vicious as you should just die." I let out a cold laugh and picked up the pesticide bottle, downing it in one gulp. Lucas and Charlie turned pale with shock. "Are you insane? You actually drank it!"

I was a descendant of Echidna, while Jonathan was the Capital City's most faithful Crystal Emperor devotee. In my past life, I eloped for love. For love, I threw away my chance to awaken my bloodline, shed my scales, and ascend to godhood. But… On the day of our marriage, Jonathan cut out my heart. He said I was cursed, that I was in the way of his true love's salvation. He wanted to use my Blood of Essence to pave the way for his true love's return to life. In despair, I could only watch as he held the prayer beads in his hand. His words were calm and deadly cruel. "Sinead, you should feel blessed to become Anna's sacrifice." When I opened my eyes again, time had mysteriously wound back. I had returned to one week before my wedding. I prayed in the rundown temple, my hand over my aching heart. The booming voice of my deity suddenly filled my ears, answering my desperate plea. "Descendant of Echidna, will you shed your scales and return to an ordinary life? Or will you give up love and achieve apotheosis?"

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?

My sister and I were promised in marriage by our father, Eses, the God of Skies. She was to wed Dexaldir, the Keeper of Fate, the one who recorded the destinies of gods and mortals. I was to wed Guerrian, the God of War. But on the day of our wedding, their beloved woman, Seraphine, leapt from the Starfall Spire, the ancient tower where even immortals would die if they fell. After that, the four of us lived together in harmony. We were praised as the most devoted divine couples in the Celestial Skies. A hundred years later, during the war between the Celestial Skies and the Phlegethon Legion, Guerrian and Dexaldir betrayed us. They lured us into a trap and handed us over to the Phlegethon Demons. My husband, Guerrian, smirked at me. "Seraphine, it must have hurt when you fell from the Starfall Spire. I have finally avenged you today!" Next to him, Dexaldir held up an emerald pendant that was given to him by Seraphine. He murmured affectionately, "Seraphine, this day has finally come. They will pay the price! Wait for me. I'll soon find you a way to regain your body." Only then did my sister and I understand. They believed that we forced Seraphine to jump. The Phlegethon Demons kept us alive for 16 days. 16 days of torture. They tore the divine core from my sister's chest, destroying both her body and soul. As for me, due to my innate beauty, I was humiliated to death by the demon leader. When I opened my eyes once more, we were back to the day when our father promised us our marriages. I turned my head and saw my sister looking back at me. I knew she had been reborn too. We both smiled. Before our father could finish speaking, I stepped forward and interrupted him, "Father, I have a different idea."

After transmigrating into a novel, I realized the heroine and I had the exact same name. Naturally, I thought I had transmigrated into the female lead. So I marched straight to the man who was still a broke nobody at the time, threw all caution to the wind, and pounced on him like I had plot armor protecting me. He even glared at me with red eyes and told me he hated me. I honestly thought he was just into the whole push-and-pull thing. Everything shattered when the real heroine showed up and I finally understood one thing. He actually hated me. Heartbroken, I packed my bags and got ready to disappear. The next second, he pinned me against the wall. "Where are you going? Already bored of me, sweetheart?"

When my husband, Robert Bowen, takes his assistant, Bianca Strickland, to a prenatal checkup, I'm being kissed by his 18-year-old version in a corner. "You're already 30 years old, yet why do you smell so nice and taste so kissable? I love you so much, honey! "By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why didn't he come pick you up after work?" I push the 18-year-old Robert away helplessly, only to meet the icy gaze of his 30-year-old self from afar. "You already have a young side piece, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me? Don't make me look down on you, Kaitlyn Hudson." As I watch Robert leaving the hospital with his arm around Bianca, his 18-year-old self begins throwing a temper tantrum in my arms. "That idiot! How dare he speak to my wife in such an arrogant manner! I might as well commit suicide right now so that he'll disappear from this world permanently!"

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband came home with a woman who was six months pregnant. He introduced her as his cousin, someone who had fallen on hard times, and asked me to take care of her. I was just about to agree when fragments of imaginary commentary floated through my mind: [She's just my 'cousin'. Uh-uh, that's a cliche.] [Poor supporting female character! A maid by day, the husband's bedwarmer by night.] [But she totally deserved it! If she hadn't broken up the main couple, they'd have a whole soccer team of kids by now!] Wait—what? Supporting female character? Me? And what's this about breaking them up? So now these two get to cheat under my roof, and somehow I'm the villain? Before I could process it all, my husband was already dragging her luggage inside. "Alice doesn't like fried food," he said matter-of-factly. "And nothing too salty or spicy. Make sure you keep that in mind when you're cooking. "Oh, and pregnant women love sweets. Go out now and buy a cherry cake. The one from that bakery in the suburbs."

After I become successful in life, I sue my wife, Hazel Cooper, also known as the woman who had supported me through thick and thin. She gets down on her knees and pleads with me tearfully not to divorce her, only for me to shove her away. My neighbors call me an ungrateful bastard. They keep spitting at me and throwing feces at my doorstep. Even the Internet users gang up on me and bully me on the Internet. But when the court trial is over, everyone kneels before me, looking extremely remorseful.