Okay. In behalf of the effort I made, I would at least post these two drafts I wrote. And also for something-to-post sake's. I do have a feeling that they are not gonna work out yeah, like if anything has worked out to me from all my previous posts. This is insane, really. I'd start a post and when I'm somewhere at a third part of it, I'd usually skip writing and tell myself I'll finish this some other time then eventually I would lose zeal to continue on.
This unfinished post I wrote or typed basically (people seldom use the word) is just recently like two days ago. I wanted to portray here a man who chose his job over a woman well after the incident he realized that he loves her more than anything. The first paragraph is something that reminds him which is related to the incident and what took place. It's nothing out of ordinary, very monotonous. Yeah, and I haven't figured out the title. I suck, ikr.
The lights flicker everywhere. I hear the whistling of a kettle continuously, almost burnt. A sound of a man non-stop hammering a wood. Maybe it was our door being fixed. The resonant horns of the cars outside the house echo in my ears; they bore to my timbre. My phone rang with a vibration louder like a fault. I couldn't take it so I covered my ears as they hemorrhage in sufferance. I tried to wake myself but I couldn't. Something like two hundred pounds of weight shoving me on my bed. I move a little from side to side with my feet nudging the sheets. Hoping I'd fall which would wake me up but it didn't let me. I hued for relief but the blatant noises are not helping. I tried to scream out loud for the last time til my bronchioles has started constricting. I have asthma. There was nothing I could do so I cried in exhaustion.
There are tears in which I never grew fond of time and again. These are memories I recollect keep swaying to and fro however I drop it end with stir of suppression. It has been two years since I wailed after that red October. The scenes that bring together are still fresh in my pit of memories. I went to visit you and it felt better as nothing had happened. The bottle of Antonov I bought from a convenience store has started to kick.
Today, I am driving a car of a pharmaceutical company they gave me. I suppose lend would be a more fitting term. They said if I could make good consecutive sales (above my quota) with the drug they want me to market, they'd probably consider it as token in return. It's a 2009 Altera. I could only whim how their tongues have not grown tired. My eavesdropping told me it's not to chance as they sales-talk me like I'm no sales-talker. I drove downtown to a place where I first met you. You haven't changed a bit. You are still cold like I first met you.
This next post would have been probably posted earlier than above. I was more eager to finish this as I was inspired by the story of the patient assigned to me but haplessly I did not. He is a special person who lives possibly a lifetime in an orphanage. For the following part of it tells how he manages his everyday to live through. I thought it would be a nice write but very long and so again, my snoozy self decided it. In some ways, I had a title for this and it's called: his own anatomy of life.
During his stay in his mother's womb, he did not know he was already being cursed to death. He was a result of a typical teenage mistake. He budded out from two people who committed themselves to a sin they never showed remorse of. On her first trimester, his mother had thoughts of aborting him. She traveled all the way to a known church where most religious devotees congregate on occasions. She wasn't there to seek for guidance neither to test her faith and surrender. Instead, she was to there to find something. Concealed along the sidewalks of its fine architecture and sacredness were scattered products offering contempt. Her hands were clenching, her eyes stared at distance. She was terrified into thinking of taking her own child's life. But her senseless reasoning was harder than her thick skull. Without wavering, she managed to buy a bottle of herbs and capsules that promises her menses back.
It was in her third month and she grew impatient. She only had a few drops of blood on her pad. She was unsure if she's done it so she called her boyfriend. But her attempts were only refused.
She's weeping not because her boyfriend was such a dumbass but the fear of her pregnancy being noted as her abdomen has started swelling. She hid his presence through binding her abdomen and squeezed it until it flattens. Nobody seems to notice. She barfed like a drunken cow. She ate less except loads of fish. Yes, the hormones' taking over her body. But she may have fooled everyone beside her mother. Rage almost killed her in despair to have this child, again, be terminated. Even a mother had no heart. Her father sinistral in any way, suggested them to consult an abortionist. Everyone's going against to his coming into this world.
Finally, they decided to accept him only they would keep her pregnancy under wraps. The girl disappeared in the outside world ashamed of what's inside her. At 31st week while raining she ran off the stairs and slept. In no time her amniotic sac ruptured. She started feeling contractions while water all gushing out her vagina. She delivered preterm.I'm kinda busy lately. You know, racking things up. I'm also preoccupied listening to album songs from a few awesome bands. I found a new band called Sleeperstar and this song they call Everything Must Find It's Place which was featured in a movie called Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close is beyond greatness. Been listening to U2 and SafetySuit as well. They are all awesome.