The Psychoweirdo’s charm

Ben was bewildered by the silent scene he just witnessed right before his very eyes. It almost felt like he’s in a movie wherein two girls are about to fight over him, which made him feel a bit proud of himself, that added some dose of pride and confidence in his Alpha soul. He scratched the daydreaming after realising that this ain’t a movie at all, it was real life. His wife Abby is standing right next to his mistress who happened to be a sin he would never regret of committing. Ash has exceeded the definition of perfection—who is gifted with such undeniably seducing soul, with those brown eyes that speaks of lust, a body that shouts of warmth and home, hair that smells of lilies in full bloom and a sweet voice that mimics of Jazz on a sad solitary night. He must be crazy, he thought. Whatever it is, he knows for a fact that a woman like this is almost impossible to even exist, like a gem that can only be found in the dark abyss of ocean and seas.

“What is going on in here? Abby, let’s go home now, I’ll explain everything…” said Ben, who suddenly dropped the paperbag of Japanese food he bought at Yabu Restaurant as he rapidly reached out for his wife’s hands so he can escort her out of the house. But he reckoned it’s not possible, with Abby’s face that threatens of a quick death, by the way her features instantly transformed in mere seconds. A pair of fire emojis replaced her once angelic eyes, at least to his imagination, that made him sweat like he just lifted a 300 lbs of weights, non-stop.

Abby slightly moved back from her standing position as she peered at Ben with sheer rage, then she shoo him away in the most brutal way possible, as he attempts to hold her and lead her out of the house.

“No, i need explanation NOW!!! You fuckin’ tell me what’s going on and why the fuck are you cheating with me and how long has this been going on?!??! Fuckin’ tell me ’cause I fuckin’ deserve to know!!!!!” she stated hysterically, losing all the poise a legal wife should have. She just lost it, she couldn’t help it.

Ash nonchalantly held and opened up her tiny jar by the coffee table that contains sweets and gums and grabbed a strawberry flavored gum she calmly put into her mouth, as she watches this familiar boring movie that’s making her nearly sleepy. She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned her back against the wall as she chews and pops the gum in her mouth, in a sexy manner every man would absolutely get turned on, even just on the chewing act alone. The Psychoweirdo didn’t say a word—her presence is enough to overrule the heated ambiance these overly dramatic Asian people created in her place. Fuck off, she thought.

Ben tried to carry his petite wife like a child, regardless of her violent protest with the act, scandalous cussing and crazy shouting. Notwithstanding Abby’s size, she was able to get off of him as she scratched him hard with her witch-like long nails and as she bit his arm that left a mark that is almost about to bleed. She didn’t wanna lose, no matter how ridiculous the scene she’s creating, she didn’t mind. She needs an answer, Ben needs to choose between her and this whore.

“OK! I will leave this filthy house, but you have to choose between me or your mistress. Tell me, who would you pick? Your wife who have loved you for years or this bitch you barely know?! Tell me! Fuckin’ decide NOW!” she threatened Ben, whilst pointing to Ash, confident enough that he’s going to choose her, ’cause she’s the legal wife, the right owner of Ben.

Ash wasn’t bothered by the wife’s threat, she cared less about losing Ben, but she knows she was the best in bed, by far. She’s thinking hard as she looks at Ben, trying to send a captivating message through her eyes—to stay and choose her. She’s not sure yet, but she wants to be chosen, perhaps it was her ego or maybe it was also because she was truly hooked by this guy’s inexplicable hotness.

Ben didn’t know how to reply, he’s both shocked and frightened. What is he supposed to do now?

To be continued…

A surreal win

Why am I here?

Why did I decide to be alone when the wind and the trees and the moon wants to come along?

They were here to be of help—so i can somehow breathe and witness a ray of light.

But I don’t want them in this fight.

My body craves for the full bloom of darkness inside.

You know why I like to endure this moment of total black?

So I get to teach myself to never fear the dark.

To feel each sting the sharp objects bring,

to embrace the pain that in my bones have remained.

I never hated the idea of hurting,

’cause they push me to be growing

to a woman of strength, I’m becoming..

a woman of resilience and grit.

I need to be all by myself—

so I get to converse with them voices within,

to understand the purpose of this storm I’m in,

not bothering no one, not confiding to a friend.

Because in times like this,

I need to crack a code to surpass the test.

And I’m supposed to find that code,

by marrying myself with this sword—

a weapon I can use to “unfear” the unknown,

to destroy the naysayer’s voice,

to never stop believin’ in my soul.

Why am I here?

Because life sometimes sucks yet I have to take it all in.

It’s for the better, it’s a surreal win.

(digital painting credit to the best artist in the world, Arvy)

Invisible fear

I was listening carefully with every beat of it.

I put my right hand to my chest, to feel the message it brings.

I was bewildered by its deafening noise—it’s making me sick.

It seems like I was hearing a beat resembling them ones in horror movies.

Trying to decode the fear I can perfectly hear.

Is this even real?

Where does this fear come from?

Is this the fear of being alone or the fear of losing?

Oddly speaking, I couldn’t seem to find out its true meaning.

Perhaps, both or maybe I’m just hallucinating.

For a moment, I stared at the cup in front of me and then brushed off this phase of overthinking…

I sighed whilst smiling when I figured out I’m only palpitating…

this strong coffee is all but to blame.

😅😅😅😅😅

(Photo credit to Pinterest)

Men, this is for you.

Are women really THAT complex?

Men, do you sometimes feel like you couldn’t decipher our indirect language and dramatic behaviour at times?

Probably most of my male readers would do a slow repetitive nod for this very common question about gender differences so I decided to write something that (hopefully) could enlighten you on how to deal with the enigmatic behaviour of women especially in terms of our hobby of starting a quarrel.

This, however, will focus on one thing. No big deal—only one single revelation that I urge you to please embrace with all your being, just in case you would find this fascinating.

There is no secret formula to crack the code inside a woman’s brain, you would only be needing an open mind and a heart that’s full of patience. Again, patience.

Have you ever witnessed your wife or girlfriend who all of a sudden got angry and when you asked her what’s wrong, she answered you with an enraged I-don’t-know?

If you’re sometimes lucky, we also get mad for a reason—but most of them are merely minor and petty.

It’s undeniably true that we also say no, when it really means yes. That today we love you but then a few minutes later, we hate you.

That’s when you would give us that strange look and we would get into your nerves and you would scratch your head and probably get angry in return for the mystery of our emotional roller coaster.

Men, listen.

This is the real reason behind this unknown source of dismay:

PMS.

Lol, i know. I bet this is not like a new word for you but heyyy there’s something you need to know more about this, because Google would only define PMS as boring as this:

Premenstrual syndrome (PMS) is a combination of symptoms that many women get about a week or two before their period. Most women, over 90%, say they get some premenstrual symptoms, such as bloating, headaches, and moodiness.

This is yes, correct, but did you know that the symptoms, most especially moodiness, doesn’t only happen a week or two before our monthly visit? The fact of the matter is, it happens to our well being with no time frame, with irregular schedules, and no whatsoever reminder that we’re already PMSing. Even the “P” that stands for “pre”, also stands for “post” at times. We find this annoying too, just as much as you do, because there are times we find ourselves in deep loneliness (sometimes crying) over something uncertain. This is weird, we know that, but you have to understand that it ain’t easy. To be a woman of moodswings, that is.

So men, forgive us, if we shouted at you and started a fight you with little to no valid reason. We don’t really want to, but the abrupt changes in our body on a monthly basis is really devastating thus making our hormones go wild that creates some sort of an imbalance. This triggers the rage and the fury as our emotions go crazy. We don’t usually admit these things to you, out of fear of sounding weak, or just because we think you won’t understand. But seriously though, we got this. We’ve taken it all in and accepted this as a part of us, being ruled mostly by our Amygdala, with little control of it.

Acceptance is the key to simplify our complexity. As contradicting as it may seem, but if you really want to understand a woman’s brain, you have to be extra patient with us and in return, we’ll be all-out with you in terms of love.

Women will never stop PMSing, even until we reach the inexorable stage of menopausing. We are created to be an epitome of ambivalence, with a mind full of emotional fluctuations like the stock market. But nevertheless, we’re not using this as an excuse to have the license to start a fight from nothing but pure moodswinging, but for you to have a broad understanding of this flaw and to make you realize that despite this inevitable situation, we can rather compensate through our sweet gestures and sincere expression of tender love and care. 😉

Ps. Survival tip: When we’re going crazy, a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug is all we need to stay calm. No words—just these sweet gestures will be enough to make us feel safe.

Sheer suffering

The ache deepens as I was having a tour of our old photos again,

I could hardly breathe, my heart seemed like being punched by a giant’s fist.

I shed tears as I cogitate the why’s of your unforeseen evanescence.

How could we end up as terrible as this?

How could you just let go of the dreams we vowed to achieve?

You left me hanging like a cat of multiple lives who was born again after a cataclysmic death—in this new life, there’s but no more of you.

Tell me, is there something I should have done to prolong the pages of our story?

(Photo credit to the owner)

How can I make a masterpiece?

You were supposed to write something.

But you couldn’t fathom why your mind is overflowing

With too much lists and codes, too much worries—it’s disgusting.

So you end up staring at your laptop,

fingertips ready to dance with the keypad,

eyes glued to the screen, chair’s heating up for real.

You’ve been planning to write something,

but no swift thought can satisfy your brain’s craving—for something original, something unclichéd that could mean a thing.

Then you turn to a book you were reading, hoping for the light bulb to say, ting!

Unfortunately there’s still nothing.

Is this a mere writer’s block or but pure folly?

Nonetheless, you really want to write something,

so you thrust your whole being to ponder thoroughly, to dig for ideas tremendously

But your disoriented mind is not helping.

It’s when your heart start pounding, that you realize what’s missing.

You forgot to listen to your heart, as your mind overrule you with boring facts and schemes.

It was saying something.

What did it say?

Your heart says it’s in pain.

You then grabbed this time your pen and paper,

jotting down each word your heart dictates.

You didn’t mind if it’s basic and plain, if it lacks pompous adjectives or peculiar adverbs

All you care is what your heart is telling you to create.

You didn’t mind how the readers would react.

It’s merely for the purpose of bursting them feelings out.

You then finish the piece out of sheer signals from the heart.

Making you discern it’s not hard after all, it only takes a heart that speaks to make a such masterpiece.

(Photo credit to owner)