A woman’s edge (Part 2)

He was still sleeping. The sound I made didn’t wake him up, ugh thank goodness. I silently made my way outside our room to search for a charger but I couldn’t find any. In the back of my head I was praying that the battery lasts ’til I get to feed the instincts of a crazy wife that I am. I hurriedly went to our bathroom downstairs and there I decided to read the secrets on this evil phone. It obviously doesn’t require a password, just by clicking the home button and the * key, it’s now unlocked! I took a deep breath before I clicked on the inbox. 

Holy sh*t!

I knew it. A woman’s instinct has always been right. Even though I haven’t read yet what’s inside the messages of the only person by the name of “Babe”, my heart was crushed in an instant. Both my eyes couldn’t help themselves but to release the pain by some initially tiny drops that has multiplied to such a heavy flow, no matter how much I force myself to stay composed, i just couldn’t. At this very moment, the walls look like they’re gonna break at any minute and I would unhesitatingly let it destroy me. I let the water flow in the faucet by the sink so just in case he figured out I wasn’t beside him and searched for me, he wouldn’t get to hear me crying.

And then after my drama scene just like in the movies, a sudden air of relief passed by reminding me to stay focused. I washed my face with cold water to wipe away the extra weight off it. I had to be brave, I thought. So I decided to read the messages and the first three messages read:

“I’m here now, where are you?” received 8:46 am 01/14/18

“I can’t wait to see you, babe.” received 08:30 am 01/13/18

“Babe, we’ll get through this. I love you, okay?” received 04:11 pm 01/12/18

Damn, it seriously hurts. I just utterly lost it—I shrieked carelessly finding myself sitting at the corner near the tub. I embraced both my legs whilst my face pressed onto my knees, no longer minding the sound I have to make because my mind is now filled with too much agonies. I have lost my supposed to be children, and now I am about to lose my husband. The voice inside me was blaming me, telling me it was all my fault. That maybe if I listened to him and didn’t get lost in the pain of the miscarriages, he shouldn’t have done this. The ones you see in the movies showing the strength of the wife being cheated on is a total bullsh*t. It’s really heart-shattering, or maybe I’m just too weak.

The evil phone beeped twice again showing a reminder of it’s critical low battery so I quickly looked at the call logs even before it goes off. Whilst still sitting on the bathroom floor I viewed the number of this slutty babe who’s been f*cking my husband. I was startled as soon as I get to see the number… Oh my God!

The number registered by the code name of “Babe” is not my husband’s mistress’s. It’s my husband’s number! This is clearly not Ryan’s phone but the mysterious mistress’s! Why is this in Ryan’s bag anyway? And the messages I just read were his messages to her. A sudden deep pinch weaken my soul for this revelation.

Even before I get to scrutinize the phone more, the screen goes off and turned black. The battery is now dead. I looked up and the clock says it’s already 2:01 am so I decided to clean off the mess that I am and went back to our room.

Ryan was still sleeping soundly when I entered our room. I still managed to sleep beside him despite the urge to wake him up so I could confront him. I stared closely at the back of his head, listening closely to the odd rhythm of his breathing, contemplating whether to wake him up or just wait for the alarm clock to sing.

I did the latter. It’s 6:58 in the morning now and I haven’t slept yet. If you were in my shoes how could you sleep knowing that your partner in life has betrayed you? In roughly two minutes the alarm went off. He shoved his hand to get his phone below his pillow and tapped the snooze button. I snatched the phone from him with such force and it apparently startled him.

“What’s wrong with you?”, he uttered in a calm yet surprised manner.

“I found an old phone from your laptop bag. Whose phone is that?” I said whilst standing up preparing myself for an emotional debate, his IPhone still on my right hand, the evil phone on the left. I didn’t wanna go around the bush anymore so I confronted him right away.

“What phone? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”, said Ryan in a high pitched tone this time, his voice is obviously shaking.

“Oh, c’mon Ry, stop lying to my face. You’ve been cheating on me, how long has this been going on? Who owns this f*ckin phone who looks like she literally left it in your bag so I could find out about this!”, I shouted, trying to hold back the tears that are about to fall.

“Sam, you’re hallucinating. I understand how the miscarriage affected you, I was badly hurt too. Please, just stop this”, he said whilst trying to go near me reaching for my hands. But I kept on circling around the room because I don’t want to feel his skin that has touched a different woman.

“Whuat?! Are you saying I’m just making this up?!”, I said with my left hand raising the small evil phone like a student waiting for the teacher to call me.

This time I wasn’t able to hold it, tears began falling, it’s too much of a pain.

He sighed deeply but failed to answer me. He refused to respond and decided to walk away. With so much anger I didn’t know what to do. He walked away again, like he always do.

I heard the door closed and by the window I saw him about to get in to the car. I usually just stay home and I never bothered following him everytime we have a serious fight. But this time, the voice inside me shouted at me saying I should do something. I hurriedly took off my night dress, grabbed my shirt and jeans from the closet and changed, picked up my bag and rapidly went out and locked the door. Luckily, I didn’t take so much time to find a taxi and he’s still in my radar. I instructed the driver to follow my husband to find out where he’s going. Because most likely, Ryan’s going to see her.

To be continued…

#fiction

Thank you, Facebook.

I set the alarm at 4:30am tomorrow and decided that I’m going to sleep early today but my brain can’t seem to shut down—vividly rewinding all the events of this day, contemplating about the things I’m supposed to do tomorrow, carefully calculating the targets I have to hit, worried about the book I have to finish, counting the clients I have to call and thinking about our good old memories—I have more to add but you don’t care anyway so I wouldn’t jot them all down no more. My point is, I feel so restless for the hectic list of to-do’s that keep on flashing in my head it’s making me so anxious because I just f—ckn wanna go to sleep but I caaaaannn’t, UGH!!! Have you ever felt this way too? I reckon you do. So what do you normally do when you can’t sleep?

Facebook?

Hmm. No. This ain’t right.

He cheated on me, I should stop stalking him.

Yes. It’s been three weeks since.

I couldn’t focus because of this urge again. To view his profile. To stare endlessly at his solo photos and them ones with her. To crush my heart with my own hands. To kill my soul with the growing jealousy in me. It has grown so much it agonises my poor self. But i loved it—the torture I bestowed upon myself like an honor of excellence awarded to me. I get so damn hurt but at least I get to see him, you know? It’s a rewarding torture after all.

I picked up the laptop lying on top my bedside table and pursued the calling to open Facebook. So I logged in. In two seconds the news feed blatantly presented his newly posted picture two hours ago. Wow, facebook! You didn’t even give me a chance to hesitate to type his name on the search box!

Sigh.

I felt a sudden pinch in my heart it kinda burns. I stared at the photo he posted for like a minute, with the caption that says: “With my gorgeous princess.” 

Wow. He used to call me his princess back then. Ha ha! He didn’t even bother changing it! Brilliant! Then, I clicked on the comments below and a lot of people are congratulating them—telling them the they-look-good-together lie, and there’s this one girl by the name of Jane Lee who left a comment that I even had to zoom in to ascertain the exact words my eyes had just read…

“He used to call me his princess too, don’t fall on that trap.” 

I’m like WTFFFFFF!!!!!

I don’t know what to feel. Each word from that random comment stunned me it goes deep within my veins, my blood couldn’t even flow anymore—I think it’s stopped. My heart is now beatless, lifeless. He didn’t just cheat on me alone, he cheated on me and Jane and even on that foolish girl on the picture he just posted. What an a*shole!!!!

I couldn’t contain the unidentified emotion I am feeling right now so I slammed the laptop close and zoned out for like two minutes with my mouth open and my eyes that suddenly forgot to blink.

The love I thought I still have for him instantly vanished like a bubble. This unidentified peculiar kind of emotion replaced the crazy kind of love I initially had for him. It’s that inexplicably odd feeling that makes you numb from the weird mix of love and hatred and anger and regret that is at some point a sense of freedom. I am now free from the trap, from his trap.

I smiled nonchalantly like some sort of an invisible thorn was taken away from my flesh. It’s still bleeding but it feels lighter. There’s a visible wound, but it’s going to heal soon, I am sure of that.

If not with the urge to stalk him again through Facebook, I wouldn’t be utterly awaken from this nightmare. If there’s one thing I learned from this experience tonight, it is the idea of spoiling yourself, albeit knowing it’s bad for you and expecting a certain punishment that will add up to your list of experiences from which you learn from—hence you grow and become wiser. This moral lesson (lol) abruptly just cleared my head, released all them worries free, thus now I think I’m ready for a goodnight sleep.

#fiction

(Photo credit to the owner)

One whimsical thought

She was reading something when I saw her this morning. Heedless of my presence, oblivious to my growing admiration for her.

She seemed as if she was beautifully jailed in her imagination—the way her eyes move with each word shows so much passion. She was glued to her own world, enjoying the adventure of the book she holds.

That’s what I like most about her.

She expands her mind with her love for curiosity. She asks me questions everyday, in her most zealous and most innocent way.

Then one day she asked me, “how come all your paintings are amazing?”

I was delighted, stunned by that heartfelt query. It was too flattering I couldn’t find the right words to say.

But my heart spoke and said…

Her love for me makes me crave to be the best.

Her respect for my creation pushes me to study more and improve my artistic self.

Her presence uplifts my soul so much I couldn’t help but fall for her hard each day.

I held her right hand and closed my eyes for a coupla seconds—then I kissed it. Thought she would find it enough for an answer, that it was all because of her.

(Digital Painting credit to my boyfriend, Arvy)

#fiction

Prisoner of a faulty love

I enjoy staring at you when you’re oblivious of my presence. It’s but a chance for me to study your face, to memorize each move, to hear the voices within you—they keep on telling me to leave you, but I used to ignore all of them.

And then you’d catch me staring—hence you’d give me that wonted nonchalant smile, the kind that is inexplicably bizarre to me. A kind of smile I couldn’t correctly decode, a kind of smile I succumbed into, when it first showed up, in that park where I met you.

I enjoy looking at you despite the fact that you wouldn’t do it to me the way i do. I stare at you as if I won’t see you again—’cause I know mornings with you is vague and uncertain.

Then last night you said, I can’t leave her. I shouted at you, cussed you, hurt you. But you put an end to the war I created, using the same line you just said in the beginning of it—I can’t leave her.

Why can’t you?

I asked this to you, but no words came out of me. This query seemed so heavy, my strength is not enough to say them clearly. It’s outright lucid to me, that I am that girl you would go to, just when you’re feeling blue.

But today something’s telling me how wrong this is.

I know…

I am that girl who patiently waits for you but it’s getting tedious.

I am that girl who listens to you when no one else could, but now it’s suffocating.

I am that girl who loves you despite your blemishes, but now it’s making me sick.

I whined for the things you should have done, I craved for the words you should have said. I kept on believing there could be a change. But there’s none, guess I was insane.

I was insane—for I hoped one day you look at me the way I look at you. But now that I’m staring at you, your body seemed to be telling me that there’s no way you would ever do.

I wished that maybe one day you’ll make me first. But your heart seemed to be telling me—I only fit to number two.

Been looking at you for almost an hour now and you’re sleeping like a baby–you’re fully incognizant of what’s going on my mind, of my plan to escape.

Been couple of years since you jailed me in this house, it’s shaky already, it’s no longer enough for me.

I thought to myself, it’s time to leave, ’cause I have to live.

To live normally, to love conventionally, to find someone else who could make me his top priority.

I silently opened the drawer, picked up that old sepia colored piece of paper, wrote a five word message that said, “I deserve better than this.”

I put the note in our bed, at the side I usually slept in whenever he’s here.

I hurriedly packed my things, with no more thinking, no more hesitating.

I went to the door carrying a heart that’s crushing, trying to stop the tears from bursting, persuading my whole being to never look back again.

Before I could manage to close the door, before I reward myself of such freedom, I looked at him one last time.

In my head, I thanked him. I wouldn’t be able to know my worth if I didn’t let it melt with his hands, if I didn’t give my all to him.

I lost myself in the bed of this wrong love. I lost everything and that’s when I figured it’s time to flee.

Just like realizing one’s importance, not by its presence, but by the mere absence of it.

This is why you should write daily

It all started when I was around six years old. I used to write crappy stories in a piece of paper which I often fold horizontally into two so it could have like a cover where the title is shown with some ridiculously kiddie drawing below. Stories like the “princess and the mouse”, “the dog and cat who always fight” and a lot more funny titles to name. It was just a hobby, really. Until I learned how to create a diary where I would religiously share almost everything that happened in my life every single day. For 12 years now, I still maintain a journal with me- apart from this blog, just to share my thoughts and feelings daily. It was a hobby turned into a habit, a habit turned into zeal.

How do you feel everytime you get to write something? It makes you feel some sense of relief, right? Just like opening up to a friend, writing whatever it is in your mind will make you feel lighter. Whether you write for a living or it’s literally just a hobby, writing things down is very beneficial to you. I don’t know about you but each time I get to write something, there were positive signals being sent to my brain that’s pushing me to feel great. You don’t really have to be the best writer, neither your writing  has to be grammatically perfect nor it has rules that you have to abide. All you need to do is to be completely honest with yourself—understand your current state of mind whilst juggling words that would eventually create an idea.

If you feel happy today, write it down! If you experience some sort of pain and it bothers you, write it down! If you know something that you want other people to learn about, write it down and post it. Writing everything down is like having a voice without a sound but you know what? It ironically impacts the loudest.

According to dailyinfographic.com, when you are writing things down, you are stimulating a collection of cells in the base of your brain known as the Reticular Activating System. The RAS is the filter of all the information your brain needs to process and it gives more attention to what you are currently focusing on. The physical act of writing brings the information to the forefront and triggers your brain to pay close attention. Thus, writing things down help us remember more. They also believe that writing serves as a calming and meditative tool and has been identified as a helpful stress coping method.

It’s through writing that you will get to create a message that you never thought you’d be able to send. It doesn’t matter if as of today no one follows you neither if someone reads your content. The idea of writing is to initially do it for yourself. If you’re doing it to be of service to people or to reach a certain number of followers and not a lot of readers have heard you yet, don’t lose hope. Just friggin’ write every waking day of your life.

Don’t think about what other people’s judgment will be. As clichéd as it may seem, but just do it. Nevertheless, don’t mind the clichés experts say you need to avoid so that people would read your content. Keep on writing and do not stop. Don’t let overthinking ruin your chances of forming a bright idea. Treat your brain—get a pen and paper or a laptop or a even just your phone, NOW. Write them thoughts down to relieve that stress inside you and you will see a better version of yourself, after creating a habit of writing daily. Happy writing!

Love is a paradox

You make me feel safe everytime my skin gets touched by you.

Paradoxically however, you can also make me feel scared about what the future might bring.

We both know how crazy we became—from the time our eyes locked, we became insane.

Oblivious of the real world, unaware of the odds despite its sheer clarity.

It’s just so vivid to me—that we can’t be together tomorrow, that today is our last day.

That there really should be no happy in an ending. Because there’s no such thing as you and me, in this world full of rules and tragedy.

But how can you do this to me? You created a language only our hearts can utterly elucidate. It’s now making me hard to concentrate—can’t think of nothing else, but the now that we have that i will never forsake.

It’s merely now but no tomorrow. Just today so let’s make the most out of it.

Kiss my hand and hold it tight before it gets cold.

Tell me you love me ’cause I need some validation.

Tell me you’ll never stop thinking of me even if I have to flee, because my body is already killing me and i have to set you free.

But oh please don’t cry for me. Stop being vulnerable and show me your strength.

Because you are my strength, my main reason for fighting. But you know how hard the battle is, so please, now—allow me to surrender.

In a few minutes I will close my eyes and I’d have to give up enjoying the beauty of your eyes.

Your eyes have been telling me to fight, they said fight for me one last time.

My heart told them I wanted to. But my angels are almost here—I can see them carrying my wings for me.

My love for you is so intense it’s making me happy and gloomy at the same time. It’s the love i have for you that kept me alive for some time, but it has made me feel lonely most of the time.

I’m lonely because I won’t be with you when you get wrinkly and old.

I’m lonely because tomorrow you might meet someone new, and you’ll soon forget the idea of me.

I’m lonely because I don’t have enough time left, to show you how much you mean to me.

I’m lonely you will never be mine again but it makes me happy that I’m dying whilst entangled by your arms around me.

I couldn’t breathe anymore, i can see an utter bloom of light coming through.

I reckon this is it. The now that i spent with you is both the most euphoric and most soul-crushing thing that ever happened to me.

For love is a paradox, yet it is absolutely true.

(Photo taken at Oslo, Norway)