Open letters and whatnots

“It’s yours”

“It’s yours”

He stormed into the house, eyebrows furrowed, as he slammed the door, shutting out the gloomy day,
and caused the doorframe to rattle. He didn’t even bother to throw his raincoat off, which was dripping
the on wooden floor.
“Stella!” he yelled, eyes wandering around the dark hall, for some reason she didn’t like to
have the lights on during days like this. He headed for where he usually found her –the kitchen, sitting
at her usual spot by the kitchen counter.
Flipping her blue hair away from her face, her heart began to race, she knew it wouldn’t be good this
time. She hopped off the bar stool, just as he popped in.
“What the hell?” he asked in an angry tone, almost shouting at her.
She was staying calm, though her breathing was heavy from her fear of him. “What’s wrong?” she
asked, concealing her fear.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about; that Chris guy!” He yelled at her. He absolutely
hated that name, his face, that son of a bitch. They were a complete contrast of each other.
Her eyebrows shot up, surprised, and she managed to utter out a nervous laugh.
“Why are you so paranoid, Fred? You know Chris is long ago.” And he was. Now, he was just
an insignificant figure in the past.
“Then why the fuck did the guys tell me that you were hanging out with him?”
She went through her memory, trying to recall the last time she had seen Chris. Her eyes widened as
she realized what Fred must’ve meant.
“Oh, yeah, I bumped into him,” was her simple reply. She didn’t want to go in depth about that
meeting.
Fred looked at her untrustingly, “It’s not mine, is it?” he said quietly as his eyes fell to the small bump
that was formed on her stomach.
“Just tell the truth Stella, you’ve been messing around with him, haven’t you?” he accused her
with narrowed eyes.
Rage filled Stella’s body and before she knew what she was doing, she was slapping him. He
grabbed her wrists, and shoved her away.
Running to entree, she threw the door open. Fred followed her, grabbing hold of her arm, and shoved.
She tumbled down the small flight of stairs. She lay completely still at the bottom, and Fred could
hardly hear her crying. Fred’s eyes widened as he saw the blood running down her legs.
His hand subconsciously ran down to his pocket, digging for his cellphone, and with a touch of
a button, he was on the line with 911. He rushed down to kneel down by her side, apologizing, “I’m
sorry! I’m so sorry!” his hand helplessly trying to comfort her, yet she shook it away.
“It’s yours.” She struggled to whisper, meeting his eyes before they fluttered shut.

random dabble

A drunken hook-up turns to something more.

The party’s a blast, everybody drunk out of their minds that even that even that girl you went to sunday school with is slurring her prayers as she chats up some random guy. Though, you aren’t drunk. Nope, you’re not drunk. Your senses are perfectly sharp, yet the world is still spinning around you. On the couch, you simply smile at a pretty face before seating yourself, eventually double taking at her with your mouth open, amazed at her beauty. Is it the beers you’ve been drinking? Is it the amphetamines from a couple of hours ago causing you to react this way? You aren’t sure, yet, you slide an arm behind her, that cold bottle of beer hitting her shoulder, and, without hesitation, she leans in closer, throws a leg over your lap and has her lips on yours.

Again, you remind yourself : I am not drunk.

Before you know it, she’s tugging on your jeans with ease, they’re already off your ass in the first place. Those tight boxers of yours revealing the shape of your cheeks, but that’s not what she wants. Fingers claws on you, scratching your skin as she rocks her hips against yours.
And before you know it, it’s over. Your eyes are closed, and her naked body is fast asleep on yours.

Stomach uneasy when you wake, that you can both hear, and you both wake up as your stomach roars, to which you run to the bathroom and throw up every single substance that’s been down your throat last night. Okay, maybe I was drunk. You admit to yourself with a shrug as you clear your mouth of the sour taste with the use of some Listerine. Never had fresher breath. Out to your bed, she’s getting dressed, and looks up with you with a smirk, your ass still bare, yet you enjoy the cool breeze that’s in the room. You never shut that goddamned window. She’s got those heels on and she simply leaves your house with no idea of where she is, but a taxi will help her out with that.

Manila Manila Manila Manila

Okay so I know I’ve been a sucky friend. But here I go with all the sentimental crap.

First of all, thank you. Name drop? Sure why not:

Angela S., Stefanie S., Amy S. [Of course family first]

&&And my Mom of course.

Tracie T., Andre V., Yan D., Nico D., Jessica C. [best friends]

Julia L., Danes C., Candice T., Kuya Pow (+Fifi)

FIRST OF ALL,

Tracie <3 My dear, dear beef. You know I love you and I’m so happy that you’ve welcomed me into your home and I’ve been happy to be by your side, really. I’ve had much fun, and I can’t thank you more! I love your fam, say thank you to them for me again. They are so sweet, every single person from your parents, siblings, lola and titos and titas. I know you are going to do it well, and always aim high as you do. The wedding’s in 12 years right? I’ll be there. ;)

Andre you’ve always been there for me and that hasn’t changed. I seriously love this bond we have and I hope that won’t change. I wish you all the best, you’ve got it good.

Yan..

To be continued.

iamryanmiller:

“Be calm.
I know you feel like you are breaking down.
I know that it gets so hard sometimes.
Be calm.
Take it from me, I’ve been there a thousand times.
You hate your pulse because it thinks you’re still alive,
and everything’s wrong.
It just gets so hard sometimes.
Be calm.”