If a woman would give it all, be it tangible or not, would she ever be loved by a man? If a woman would have herself confined within the walls of what a man dictates, would she ever be respected or at least treated fairly? If a woman would fully submit herself to the wills of a man, would she possibly get the amount of love that she deserves to have? If a woman would give up the essence of womanhood, and face a whole new role, something close to slavery, would a man show her how valuable she is?? If a woman would disregard herself and shift her attention to the man she truly loves, would she ever get something to compensate with the lack of self-fulfillment? If a woman would give a love that’s everlasting, would she get the same ounce of love that she gave? Would it rain love for her? Or would she just be showered by occasional drizzles of affection?
Hearing only the ticking of the clock across the room made my head just spin with boredom. Three long hours have passed since midnight yet I am still wide awake. I put on my earphones and turned up the volume to maximum. Usual stuff ran across my mind. Skipping songs until I find what I wanted to hear, checking for goodnight text messages every now and then – I was far from being asleep. And then, I heard something. I quickly pulled the earphones out to hear clearly. A familiar sound. I got up and searched for a flashlight. I peeked out the window. It was Neggy.
Neggy is my cat. He is a one year old mongrel. I had him since he was a kitten. I have always adored cats. But Neggy was an exception. I have a very strong attachment to this cat. One loud call is what it takes and he’ll come running to me. He sleeps beside me all the time, wakes me up, goes to the shower with me and licks and bites my toes, among other things. One night last week, he ran away. When he didn’t come home that night, I was hysterically uneasy. Neggy isn’t the outdoor type of cat. I doubt that he ever spent a night outside the house. I waited, day after day. Night after night. I couldn’t sleep. I cried. There were times when I just stood by the door and kept shouting his name despite knowing he isn’t gonna come home. Then, I just stopped waiting. I realized I shouldn’t be mourning over a lost cat. I realized how weak I am. Everybody loses something, someone even, at some point. It simply is just the way life goes. I guess this is one of the many things I can’t handle yet, even as an adult. This kind of life always leaves me surprised to what I’m facing; mostly with things I have absolutely no idea how to manage. What will life bring me next? I don’t know. All I know is that I have a black cat waiting for me in my room. At least for now.
This is a retrieved post. Reposted: 17 Mar 2012
The wind chimes tinkled in the gentle breeze. It was a beautiful moonlit night. She was standing in front of the door, the frigid cold piercing through her cashmere sweater. She had a glimpse of his car’s headlights from afar and let out a sigh of relief, and then a small smile. Kiss on the cheek, and off they went. Away. Away from everything. They roamed long, ceaseless boulevards. All she could remember seeing were the bright street lights, flashing continuously, as if endlessly, through her periphs. The constricting of her chest, almost as if something was clenching it, was saying that a certain feeling has befallen her. And then, she fell asleep.
Noticing the sudden silence in her sleep, she gently opened her eyes. The car was parked. The vague scene in front of her is slowly regressing into something distinct. She stepped out of the car and she was bewildered by the scene: city lights bedazzled the black landscape. The stars were flickering like candlelight against the dark, gloomy night sky. The lights were scintillating. Gleaming, glittering. She could have lived in that moment forever. That fleet, evanescent moment left an impression that never would she erase.
Then it drizzled. The lights turning indistinct through the fine, misty drops of rain. He slowly leaned closer to her as the rain poured harder.
…and with it, he planted a soft kiss on her shivering lip.
She went home drenched. Freezing but warm. Void of all the pain and worries she had. She felt numb, feeling only the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. And now, every time the night sky peers through her window as she lays herself to sleep, she drifts to oblivion. And it all comes back to her…
This is a retrieved post. Reposted: 04 May 2012