The silent Mayhem of beautiful Minds

Never in his life, did he thought too much about romance, until he met this woman who made him wonder whether it’s hysteria or love. He debated his way out of this comedy in his head, thinking it’s impossible that it’s the latter.

No, how could it be?

How can someone you just met a few days make you feel heavy in your heart but ironically makes you want to feel the feel of it? He asked himself this question in his head while she talked about the book she was reading and threw some lame jokes he labeled as boring. Well, that’s just his way of teasing her—to battle against the strong wind that brings him closer to her, like she’s a destination. A place destined for him to live in, or perhaps maybe a home. But he fights it, he fights the urge to look at her more than just how he used to look at girls.

She rolled her eyes and turned her back as a sign of unspoken surrender of losing a debate with him. And then sighed a deep sigh for an ambiguous picture of a future together. With her right hand sandwiched between her right cheek and her soft comfy pillow, she looked past the window and wondered how many girls he had slept with. With his charm and wit, she bet he could’ve easily made his way through their hearts, like how he managed to do with hers.

But ofcourse she would never admit it, she was quite smart enough to know it’s wrong to tell him how safe and heavenly she felt sleeping next to him and observing how his soul of masculinity seemed to overpower his femininity—in the sexiest ways of humanness. No, it’s wrong, what if she scares him away?

She liked him, well, she likes him very much but she feared the idea that he doesn’t like him the way she does.

Little did she know, that he cogitated more than she did as he studies the artistic view of her naked flawless back when she turned around. He wondered how come he’s so drawn to her, not just with what her skin shouts, but more with the language her eyes speak that required neither words nor voice. He wanted to trace his fingers from the abstract beauty of her nape down to the edge of her spine to savor the perfection of it but hesitated for a split second because he thought he should just play it cool.

Or should he, really?

Would it hurt much if he would make an exception? He thought, maybe she wouldn’t mind so he stopped battling against it and moved as close as he can, spooned her with his warmth and breathed near the outlines of her left ear.

The hair of her skin stood like it’s being magnetized by a powerful invisible sense as he embraced her from behind. He whispered something to her but she didn’t mind listening—the beats of her heart was louder as it raced like there’s a zombie apocalypse, like she should run for her life, or should she?

Isn’t this moment something she would want to freeze if she could?

#fiction

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Wrote this at almost 2am here in Iceland, ugh I couldn’t sleep 😂

I never stopped

It was ten past 7 o’clock in the evening when he showed up in my doorstep. Only if I knew he’s coming, I should’ve atleast put some makeup on. Hell yes, that was the first thing I thought. To my astonishment, I just stared at him and stood like a statue that was too fragile I could possibly break into pieces as my heart throbbed swiftly for being shocked. I was surprised because never did I expect him to go back, not today, not ever.

I didn’t know how long it took for me to fathom the level of reality in front of me that I’ve only pictured a few times in my reveries. He’s still looking gorgeous, so beautiful it hurts.

Tell me, what to do? Should I hug him or not? Should I stop my tears from bursting out? Or just let it all out and punch him gently on his chest multiple times so he would take me into his arms, that probably would anesthesize the pain I’ve built up for so many years. Tell me, what to do?

If I would ask him why he left, would his excuse matter? Would that change the depths of anger seething inside me and would he be able to atleast lessen it? No, I don’t think so. I should ask him what he’s doing here, but I don’t really wanna know. No, it don’t matter no more.

A few minutes passed, maybe two or three or five, or maybe more, I’m not really sure, I still haven’t uttered a thing. Not even a sigh, nor a smile. I looked down to break the tension in our eyes, and there I saw that he’s wearing the shoes I bought him for our 1st anniversary.

Ugh.

Took a deep sorrowful breath and exhaled it with so much intensity and put both my hands on my waist, still not looking up, convincing my tears not to fall. Please, oh, please not now. You can do this, be brave, please be brave. I kept on saying this at the back of my mind.

And then goosebumps arrived.

He held my chin up with his right hand, so I can meet his eyes again. Tears were present in every corner of his deep melancholic eyes. Tears that soon fell the moment he blinked. And in half a second, I just found my face buried in his chest, electrified by the warmth of his skin, like being magnetized and leaving no space to breathe.

Five years. Five fucking long years since I felt this. This moment flashbacked all the memories, all those times that we were happy. And we were mostly happy I even wondered why, what happened to us? What went wrong? What did I do? Was it me or was it you?

The voice inside whispered to me saying I must let go, but the heart wants what it wants thus I closed my eyes and let my heart overrule and let feelings overflow.

“I still love you. I never stopped. No, I never stopped loving you. No matter what I do, wherever I go, you were there. Always there. I know I shouldn’t be here, but something’s telling me I should. All these years, many signs have showed me I should come and see you again, even in my dreams, but I kept on ignoring them. And I’m sorry if it has to take this long.” He said these words the moment he released from the embrace, pressing my arms with so much guilt and sadness that freed the tears from my eyes. I could no longer hold it, this was too much.

I was about to tell him that it’s okay. That I’m glad to see him, that I never stopped loving him too. But it was too late.

“Honey, is everything alright? Do we have a visitor?” Dave’s voice echoed in the living room that sent cold shivers from my nape down through my spine, I was momentarily frozen.

“It’s just the delivery guy, Honey. Everything’s alright!” I almost shouted with a fluctuating voice I only hoped my husband didn’t notice that I was lying.

I pushed him slowly for him to get out, closed the door and leaned my back against it. He then touched my face with his cold hands and told me, “It’s okay. I just came here for closure. I don’t know if you need it, but I do. I’m sorry for everything, I hope you can forgive me. Be happy, okay?”

I nodded quite slowly and smiled at him as he took his hands off my face and walked away. It felt like the pain I had inside me was suddenly replaced by relief. He was right, we needed this closure. It wouldn’t matter no more to find out why he left, because that will no longer change the fact that I now belong to someone else.

Before I lose sight of him, I called his name, ran to him and told him the words he deserves to hear.

“I forgive you. Be happy, okay?”

“Okay.”

And that was the last word I heard from him. He then kept on walking and never looked back.

*****

#totallyfiction

Waiting in vain

Scared, i told you I was scared.

Guess you didn’t care,

You drove even faster,

And then slower—then you stopped.

In this snow-filled endless path.

Shivering, i told you I was shivering.

But you didn’t listen.

Deep sigh released, seatbelt unfastened.

You opened the door, then you said something;

“Leave”, you asked me to leave.

I was stunned, now what should I believe?

A promise—you promised you would stay,

“I will be with you no matter what”, all those years you say.

Why then are you leaving me this way?

I was angry and I still am—everyday.

Each time it snows, I remember that day.

The day you left me alone, now I’m full of disdain.

Though deep in my heart, I still hope and pray.

Wishing you would come back to me again.

But I’m scared… baby, I’m scared again.

What if I’m only waiting in vain?

*********************************************************************

A million thanks to my dear friend, Lloyd who captured this exceptionally beautiful photograph above that he took in his hometown in West Virginia (if I’m not mistaken) several hours ago. I had to borrow it from him ’cause just by merely staring at it, ideas within me are provoked to burst out effortlessly. Click the link below (or his name above) should you want to witness incredible form of art and photography. See it for yourself. 🙂

WELCOME TO LLOYD’S LENS PHOTOGRAPHY

Love and Loss, Truth and the End (2)

img_3689He shrieked like a hungry baby. He knows it ain’t manly to do so but he knows no other strategy to make her feel a little bit of guilt and maybe just maybe, through his sobbing, she gets to realize that she couldn’t live without him—that his love is genuine, that he’s the one for her.

“Tell me, how can things have a meaning, if you’re not beside me all the time? I can’t picture you with another guy, no ugh I just can’t. Please just please, this time I’ll make things work. I promise you, I’ll be better. I’ll do everything to revive the love that died when I foolishly neglected you. Would you please give me another chance?”

She looked at him whilst he wept, waiting for a message from her heart, thinking maybe the act will somehow awaken the feelings that withered but there was nothing — all she felt was utter pity. He was pressing her hands, kissing the back of it. Like a puppy who finds a way so his owner won’t go to work and they could play all day, like a salesman who desperately asks a customer to buy his product. But it ain’t effective. Too much of emotions seems like a flood of disaster for her. She’s a strong independent woman who barely relied her happiness over someone. And this strategy of begging is just a huge turn-off. She allowed him to say please as many times as he wants, but it’s lucid to her that the word won’t change her mind.

“Everyone deserves a second chance. Even a man of infidelity could be given another chance by the woman who truly loves her. I want to follow this common notion but when I look at you now and I ask myself — is this the person I want to spend the rest of my life with? The answer is a NO. I’m not saying this to hurt you even more but sometimes we need to get smashed in the face by the truth than to forever suffer with a lie. Truth deepens the pain but a lie prolongs it. What do you prefer?”

He stopped crying when each word that came out of her lips stabbed him with no warning. Her confidence numbed his muscles he couldn’t seem to move. Some words got tattooed in his skin: love and loss, truth and the end. He knows that he won’t be able to get rid of these words just as much as he won’t be able to move on from her. He knew he took her for granted, because he thought it was okay for her — she never complained that much anyway. He lacked the initiative to communicate with her, he ignored the signs to feed her needs in the relationship. He was a fool to keep on takin’ but rarely givin’. He was stupid to think love is enough to keep her happy.

What do you think should the boy do? Should he insist and keep on saying please? Or should he let her go despite the fact that a life without her is a puzzle with a huge missing piece?

 

#fiction

 

 

 

The psychoweirdo’s voice

Do I really have to apologize for it? For being emotionally wrecked, for being entirely true to myself, for pursuing these sexual urges and for the poison in my head filled with strong trust issues? Do I have to abide by the rules of relationships and pretend to be the cool girl the society expects me to be? I ain’t doing that shit. I deserve to live by my own independent laws about how to have a full life. A life that won’t forbid me to do the things that satisfy my skin’s cravings for some touch. A kind of choice that eases the pain of being alone but I didn’t want that to last long, being with someone that is. It makes me feel ecstatic to be caressed by married men, by them bad guys who needed some punishment. But ironically speaking, I cringe to the idea of a long term bond, a serious relationship with only one man—it smells like a disastrous thought to begin with. I’ve always been true to myself but I’ve been lying to them for the most part. One of the most pretentious things I’ve ever done that I’m never guilty of is the lie that I had feelings for them. Ha ha! I’m a professional actress by nature. Most guys fall for my emotional acts, for the tears I faked before I would have to leave, for my big brown puppy eyes I was naturally blessed with that tickles their poor hearts. I ain’t sorry for them, I will never ever be. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them, neither do I generalize men as playboys and idiots. Most of them are but I also would like to believe that there could be some who are decent enough to be loved. It’s just that, I don’t like the idea of it, of love that is. Of what the books have presented me, of what fairy tales have fooled me when I was little. Perhaps it’s not only that I don’t like it, I guess it’s merely because I haven’t really felt it. Sometimes I wonder if it’s really kind and if it’s really patient, I wonder if it’s truly powerful.

Last night, I met this guy by the name of Robbie that I slept with almost a couple of weeks ago when I was in New York. I moved in to San Francisco now and I was surprised to see him seemingly lurking around the dark flashy bar I was in. I had a feeling he was there to see me but I brushed off that thought in me. When I see no signs of him, I hastily made my way out of the place and waved for a taxi. Just by the time I opened the cab door, he abruptly appeared out of nowhere and strongly grabbed me by the arm and apologized to the driver then shoo him away. I get off of his hand that was somehow stuck into my arm then looked at him puzzlingly.

He gestured me to follow him and we sat to the bench near the colorful fountain by the park. His dominance honestly turns me on but his silence irritates me so I broke it in a very calm way.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. Or maybe something.”

“Huh. What is it?”

“I lied to you.”

“About what?”

“I ain’t married.”

“So?”

“And you’re the first woman I ever slept with”

My mouth slightly opened with this surprising news but I still managed to maintain a poker face. I pretended I didn’t care and said,

“So?”

“I always see you there, in this bar in New York. I chatted with the bearded bartender once when you weren’t around and I asked about you. He told me this gossip that you only sleep with married men and bad boys, so I decided to pretend like one, I even wore a fake ring to make it look real. I had to do that so I could get closer to you, so I could ascertain what I feel for you.”

“Haha nice story. Go on.”

“The first time I saw you was one Tuesday evening, 11th of November. You were wearing that shiny silver plunging dress. I thought you were really gorgeous, like what everyone else thought in that place. But I didn’t want to sleep with you when I saw you that night. I just enjoyed watching you giggle with the guys you were flirting with, I even daydreamed of stealing you from them and talking to you alone by the beach. I went home with a huge smile on my face and it remained in there everytime you cross my mind. I don’t know what this is, but I’m certain that it’s not merely sex that I want from you.”

I suddenly felt a pinch in my soul, not because I believed him, but because for the first time ever, it sounded so real. I have somehow memorized how the bad guys behave, thus his actions are quite foreign to me. If he is not a bad guy, nor a married man, then what is he? A nice guy? Oh no. This ain’t possible. I’ve just broken the code of promise I made to myself.

I didn’t know what to say so I waited til he say something again.

“I’m not expecting you to believe me, but can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Would you allow me to prove to you my pure intentions?”

“No. I’m sorry. But if you want, we can go to your place and have a really nice sex. But after that, you can’t see me again.”

I said it in a usual tone of voice of the Ash that I really am—the Ash that breaks men’s hearts. But for the first time in my life, I kind of regretted that I said those words to him.

“I’m sorry I can’t do that.”

“What is? The sex or the idea of not seeing me again?”

“Both. I’ll see you again soon and will ask you the same question over and over again until you say yes to it.”

He uttered calmly as he stood up from the bench and said goodbye. I contemplated about stopping him and following him but I stayed as composed as ever. I glued my eyes to him as he walk away from me, leaving me perplexed with the last words he just said. I never liked a good guy. And a good guy never liked my bold and liberating way of life. That’s ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with this?

#fiction

(This is in connection to my previous post A Psychoweirdo so I hope you read that one too. Thank you!)

A woman’s edge (Part 1)

It’s 7:06 in the morning and we started the day bickering. Good way to start the day, ain’t it? My stupid husband hated confrontations he usually walks out to evade emotional arguments like this. I was crying, I couldn’t help it. He witnessed my sobbing but he still managed to walk out like he always do, grabbed his car keys and left me with his deep sigh of anger. Does he really understand what I am going through? I know how much he suffered too–from our three consecutive loss. Yes, I got conceived because of his f–cking sperm but it was me who felt them in my womb, they were inside me, they were a part of who I am and I was supposed to be their protector. But damn it, I failed. Don’t you know how hard it is to know we have created an angel, three angels in fact, but we lost all of them in the process of letting them stay in me for 9 months?!

Yes you heard it, I had a miscarriage three times in a row and that made me second guess the idea of living. I hated myself, I hated Ryan, I hated my job—and everything else. I’ve been on and off from being completely happy. The latest miscarriage was the hardest part because he stayed in my womb for 107 days and I prayed everyday to the Lord and promised Him I’ll surrender everything to Him in exchange to this tiny gift—but He didn’t. It was absolutely terrifying, because due to this unlucky life of being an “almost mother”, my now catastrophic marriage might also make me an “almost wife” soon.

I’ve been so hard on him, I’m aware of that. But you can’t blame me. The pain that has built up inside me has almost eaten up my whole being. Ryan would try endlessly to turn me on, but I just can’t do it no more. It’s not because I ceased loving him, because I still love him despite what’s been happening. It’s merely hard to explain, I reckon it’s because the fear of losing has already overruled my brain.

My husband Ryan is an introvert so he doesn’t literally say everything that’s on his mind, but he knows well how to showcase it, unlike my innate personality of being so honest and straightforward. He always have something going on in his mind—especially these past few days. I started seeing this odd behaviour when I noticed him bringing his phone with him most of the time. Yesterday he took such a long time inside the shower and it sent some queer signals to my brain, something’s changed in him, I thought. He also seems so pre-occupied lately, like his attention has partly drifted away from a far away land. I felt like he’s hiding something. What if he’s cheating?

I could hardly sleep last night because I’ve been overthinking his sudden change of behaviour. Even the way he sleeps now has changed. His body’s lying against the mattress, sided on the left, facing away from me. All i can see is his back full of hard muscles ’cause he’s been going in the gym lately as well, he said it’s his way of holding up from the tragedy. He’s looking so macho though, I figured I forgot to look at my husband this way, it’s been a long time since. I brushed off the revived attraction I felt and focused on the messages of my instincts again. I got up from our bed, trying not to make a sound so he wouldn’t wake up. I need to feed answers to the long list of negative questions in my head.

What if I’m right? What if he met a hot girl from the gym and he’s having sex with her already? Ughhh scratch it.

I can’t have this unwanted thoughts linger whilst I’m trying to get hold of his Iphone—I need to put things together and stay focused on my plan. I searched for his phone on his table, and then in his drawers, (which is weird i know), and I even looked at his bag despite the tiny chance of finding it there. Where is he hiding it? It took me almost 15 minutes of seeking, and then viola! I found it! Why did he has to put it under his pillow though? Hmm. My heart doubled its beat when I held his phone and it tripled when my fingerprint isn’t a match anymore. Ugh. I wanted to punch this bastard now! But nooo, I need to stay composed and focused on this. I put 111185 for the passcode since it’s his birthday but it didn’t push through. I tried my birthday, 091990, but failed again. Entered a couple more combinations—our anniversary, the day we met, the first time I got pregnant—until the phone got blocked. Shit! I wanted to throw his phone for being too mad but I refrained myself from doing so and decided to scrutinise his things instead. I found his laptop and tried to open it. It’s requiring a freaking password again! Oh no, nevermind. I decided to stop this crazy agenda and returned the laptop back to its bag. Before I can manage to fully zip the laptop bag, I saw a small black rectangular shaped thing in the side pocket of it. I rapidly held it and to my astonishment — it was an old model of Nokia mobile phone back in the day. This is it. This will end all my worries. I’m sure of it.

As i try to unlock this evil extra phone of my husband that I didn’t know exists, it scandalously beeped twice indicating that the battery is now low. Darn it! My husband suddenly moved and then….

To be continued…

#fiction