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Wasted

Eight years and a million lies later, we were over.

No one saw it coming. That’s for sure. But after seeing your fiancé practically shoving his tongue down another woman’s throat while his hand was discovering the softness of her underwear, he deserved the black eye he is now sporting. My best friend, who was with me at the time spilled her drink all over him, then applauded my right hook. And to make the situation more cliché as it is, I caught him the night before our wedding on his bachelor party. I guess couples didn’t see each other before the wedding for a reason. Lesson learned I guess.

I’ve shut my hotel door and locked it, only open to the bell boy who delivered my food and never questioned my red eyes. My phone has been ringing nonstop, my mother the prime caller.

“It was just wedding jitters honey!” She would say. “I’m sure you could just kiss and make up!”

My best friend however had other ideas, plotting a murder and a funeral. Murder for the woman, funeral for my ex: dead or alive. We both snickered as she prank called my ex and imitated the voice of the guy from Saw. His girly scream was bloody hilarious.

I spent all morning deleting every picture of us in every social website, while drinking my worries away with milkshake. I opened his Facebook, evilly changing his password. I then proceeded to throw away his clothes outside the window of what was supposed to be our honeymoon suite. I soon fell asleep to Bruno Mars serenading me, feeling at peace after what felt like the worst day of my life.

Loud desperate knocks practically pushed me out of the bed, making me yelp in surprise. I took my trusty hair curler and pointed it at the door as I looked through the peep hole. I expected a knife or a chainsaw to thrust through the door, a result of my obsession with horror movies. What I didn’t expect was my ex, flowers and chocolates in hand. He nervously ran his hand through his hair before knocking again. I pretended to be asleep, not making another sound.

“I know you’re awake. You’re not exactly a heavy sleeper Andy. And please put the hair curler down before you open the door?” he said, and I imagined a smirk tugging at the side of his lips.

I cursed under my breath, hating the fact that this guy knew me better than anyone else. With shaking hands I opened the door, ready to count how many apologies he’s about to make.

“I’m sorry about last night, I was so drunk I didn’t even know what I was doing and I’m sorry I didn’t run after you after you punched me, your friend poured margarita all over me and it made me sticky and I’m sorry for-“

The slap resounded through the empty hallway, making him shut up. Three apologies in one ridiculous sentence were too much. I took a deep breath, before looking straight at his stupefied face. He still had the black eye I gave him, but it looked like it was covered with a concealed. His skin looked pale, his lips dry. But he was still frustratingly handsome, with his squared jaw and hazel eyes. My resolve almost melted at the sight of him so vulnerable. Almost.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked at him straight in the eye, before opening my mouth.

“One, stop talking fast. Two, as an English major you insulted me with that apology. Pauses were made for a reason and conjunctions should not be overused. Three, you weren’t even that drunk, because if you were you would have passed out already. We both know after two shots you’d be ready to lie down anywhere, even if it was on the street. Four, pick up your clothes on the floor or I’d have my best friend burn it. And lastly, I don’t want to see you again.”

And with that ladies and gentlemen, I closed my door, or maybe slammed it on his face. The groan from the other side of the door told me the latter happened.

I smiled at myself while looking at the peephole, watching him pick up his clothes. Soon enough he left; grumbling unintelligible things under his breath. I felt relieved, then doubtful, then finally depressed. All under 10 seconds. I was relieved he left; at least I was strong enough not to melt onto his arms. I felt doubtful, as I looked back on our relationship. How many times did he cheat before he got caught? It hit me like a ton of bricks, the lies, the deceit and the fact that I lost not only my boyfriend, but also a best friend.

This made me sad the most, the fact that I lost someone who knew me at my worst and best times. I sobbed like a maniac, as flashes of memories crept on me like a ninja cutting onions. I wouldn’t doubt it if my neighbours began to complain about a wailing hyena. And as if on cue, someone knocked on my door.

“Ms. Sanchez?” A muffled voice said from the other side.

I tried to ignore whoever it was, and it pierced my heart to be called by my last name. By this time I should be Mrs. Rodrigez, but no, I was still MISS Sanchez. I sighed, sobbing once more onto my pillow. When I calmed down I finally got to look around my room.

The once neat and organized room was now a mess, much like my life. I felt alone and terribly stupid. I felt sorry for myself. I felt like he took my heart then crumpled it to throw away. I thought about the things we had together, and all the wasted effort and time for a jerk. And though I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my body, I felt wasted.

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Totally fiction. I’m feeling gloomy as the rainy season intensifies here in the Philippines. I hope you had a nice weekend!

The selfie generation

My generation is vain. Yes, yes we are. We can’t deny that we absolutely cannot go to a trip or a party without a camera. We all would like to “preserve” moments and post them onto Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. It’s really an insane thing, and even our parents and elders are catching on. We have a thing for posting one picture out of thousands that we have taken. Admit it, you take about thirty pictures, and upload only half of them.

So when our professor told us that our final requirement for our subject would be self portraits, you could only imagine our reactions. Yes, we were ecstatic! We finally could be vain and actually get something profitable out of it. Our professor told us to pass the best five pictures, but like I said, I took like a hundred pictures and painfully chose just five. Without further ado, here are my best five pictures. Most of these were taken by my faithful photographer, the camera stand. 😀

So far, I got a great grade out of this, and the remaining other pictures are stored for my “future” profile pictures. Do you consider yourself as a part of the selfie generation?

The quake that took

“Kyla! You’re it!”

I taunted, touching the back of my friend. Soon we were all running away from her. I felt the wind on my face as I ran, my friends running with me.

“Lindaaaaa! You’re so unfair! I was eating turon!”

I pointed my tongue out to her, and began to run. I ran as fast as my seven year old legs could. When I saw mother, I hid under her skirt. She began laughing and held my head, hiding me from my friends. She then went inside, bringing my baby sister with her. My friends continued to run around, with Kyla still not tagging anyone else. I hid behind the chair now, as my mother came out of the house. I giggled as Kyla almost touched my other friend, but failed.

“Ha! I can see you Linda!”

Kyla suddenly said. She was about to reach out to me, when everything seemed to shake. I saw the little houses sway before me, and my mother lifted me up, my legs dangling. My heart began to beat super fast as my mom took me to the street, my head getting dizzy because of the moving.

“Stay here okay? I have to get your sister from upstairs.”

Just as my mom turned to leave, the earth shook harder, and a small crack showed on the ground.

“Mooooom.”

I said, my body quaking with the earth. She turned to me, and as she did I saw our house crumble down like stacked leaves. My mother’s face froze, her eyes never leaving mine. When she turned around, she collapsed on the road.

“Mooom! Mom!”

I ran to her like crazy, shaking her body. That was when I heard a small wail from a baby, and I remembered my sister. I quickly ran towards the crumbled house, the earth still shaking from below me. The cries began softer and softer, as if the nearer I got, the fainter her cries. I flipped everything I could get my hands on, the rocks, the wood and everything else. The earth stood still now, but I still felt my legs shake I was aware of my sore foot, as I lost my slippers somewhere in the rubble. I tried to listen for my sister’s cries, but my heart broke when I was met by silence.

“Oli?”

I said, trying to get a reaction from her. The earth shook again, this time softer and shorter. I looked around the Chocolate hills that were not that far away, and I was surprised to see a crack there too. Something so beautiful now had a damage. I pried my attention towards finding my sister, when I felt something soft upon my feet. I looked down, and saw that it was her pillow. I frantically dove into the pile of rocks, looking for my little sister. She had to be here! The tears in my eyes blinded my eyesight, but I still sobbed my way through. Suddenly, my hand felt something. Her hair. My hands immediately went stiff, my eyes wandering through the rubble.

When I saw an open eye looking at me, everything went black.

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The island of Bohol is just a boat ride away from our island, so when the 7.2 quake shook, we felt the house rocking like a chair-rocker. This story is fully fiction, although I could imagine it being more near to the truth as ever. Please pray for those in need, as we are wounded more than ever.

Just two weeks

As I got on the jeepney ride home, I was completely and utterly tired. I had two exams tomorrow, my stupid boyfriend got jealous because of some guy who hugged me and I had to keep up with P.E. I squeezed myself in between the people, my head almost automatically resting on my bag. I was drifting in and out of sleep when I heard someone sob.

“Shh.It’s okay.” A soothing voice said.

I looked up to see what the commotion was, and I saw a couple sitting across me. The girl was gripping her boyfriend’s shoulder, tears going down her cheeks. Her boyfriend’s hand was on hers, and his eyes were holding back tears. Just then the girl released the boy, pushing him away. He immediately held her hand, and she snapped and glared at him.

“It’s just two weeks, love. Two weeks then we’ll be together again.” He whispered.

I felt like I was eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help it.I looked around me, the other passengers oblivious about the scene developing in front of me. When the guy’s tear began to fall, I was tuned in to their conversation. The girl still wasn’t looking at him, and seemed to push him away.

“I’m sorry okay? If I could stay here, I would. But you know how my parents are.” He said.

The girl’s tensed shoulders relaxed a bit, and she turned her head to face him. She caught my eye, so I embarrassingly hid my head on my bag again. A few moments I looked up again, and I caught the boy kissing her forehead. It was pretty sweet, the way they both comforted each other.

“You promised you didn’t have to go home.” The girl said, her voice cracking.

“I have to. But I’ll do everything I could to go back okay? Plus, you’re my home now. I’d just be going somewhere where I grew up.”

He held her chin on his finger as he spoke to her, and I melted with the girl. She simply smiled at him, and leaned on his shoulder. They soon talked in hushed tones, their hands intertwined. The jeep soon fell into silence, except for the occasional sob that came from the girl. I tried my best not to reach out to her, because I felt like I knew her after minutes of listening to their conversation. I sound like a stalker, I know, but they shared a look I’ve only seen once in my life – the way my parents looked at each other – true love. Both of them didn’t look like they’re more than twenty years old, yet they were lucky enough to find each other.

All too soon the jeepney stopped, and it took me a moment to realize that the girl was getting off. She then hugged him tight, gathered her stuff then got off the vehicle. He then turned around to watch her get inside her house. Just then my phone beeped, and it took me a moment to struggle through my messy bag.

From: Stupid boyfriend <3
‘I’m sorry about earlier. I just can’t bear to see you with someone else.’

My heart melted like a pool of lava, and I began smiling like an idiot. I looked up to the guy, who was getting off the vehicle. I then realized that I was lucky that I had a boyfriend who was with me in the same city and loved me just as much. As the vehicle zoomed off away from the guy, I wondered how they were going to make it. I knew even just a week without seeing my boyfriend would be too much, and they’re going through twice that span of time.

Before I went to bed that night, a single thought went through my head. They’re going to make it. I thought. It looked like true love after all.

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slightly fiction. this really happened, although from another person’s point of view. my boyfriend went to his hometown for two weeks yesterday, and I think this is my way of coping. 🙂

My bag carrier

“I have your bag with me so you won’t leave me.”

He said, a smile on his face. I chuckled, as I waited in line. He walked away from me, looking at the aisle where they sold toys. He looked back at me, as if asking for permission.

“Go then. I don’t think I’m going anywhere with my whole life praticaly in that bag.”

He beamed at me, then walked into the toy section. For someone who’s almost twenty seven years old, my boyfriend sure acts like a kid. I shook my head, as the cashier lady said “Next.” I emptied my arm, full of new books to read. As the computer beeped with every swipe, I realized my wallet was in my bag. I silently cursed, hoping that he’s come back before I had to pay.

“That would be nine hundred pesos.” The lady said, bored as ever.

I looked around for him, and when I saw his egg shaped head, I practically called him like an overhead speaker. He hurriedly ran towards me, his hand behind his back.

“What is that?” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.

He pulled out a space gun and a Hot Wheels car shyly, putting them on the counter. The lady swiped them, and I paid for it. Figures, I thought. I’m in love with someone obsessed with guns and cars while he’s in love with a girl with more books than sense. I inwardly smiled to myself, as he took the bag with all our stuff in it. I offered to take my bag from him, but he resisted, reminding me how many times I ran off without him. I smiled, remembering the times I left him in department stores and other places just because I knew he’d go looking for me. It was fun while it lasted, and it always resulted in a kiss, because I always scare him to death.

“We’re home.”

He said, breaking my chain of thoughts. I looked at the second floor, where our apartment was located. With our heavy grocery bags, he took them all, determined to do it in one trip. I laughed at his antics as we walked up the building. Reaching our door, he asked me for the keys. I quizzically look at him, as he struggled to open the door with the key. I was about to follow him inside, when he stopped me, making a few jars in the grocery bag to crash together.

“Don’t go in yet.” He said, more like ordered.

I puffed at him, and he just smiled as he took the grocery bags and my bag into the apartment. Curiosity was killing me by the second, and just as I was about to open the door his face popped out.

“I know you’re impatient, but could you just please wait here? I won’t be long, I promise.”

He looked flustered, his face looking like he ran a marathon. I reluctantly nodded as he closed the door, locking it from the inside. My eyes widened at the realization: he locked me out! But I stood my ground and stuck my ears onto the door. I could hear his frantic steps, and I could hear him throwing something to the ground. He was saying something I couldn’t make out, then it was silent. The door flung open, causing me to stumble into his arms.

“Eight years later and you’re still falling for me?” He smugly said.

I stuck my tongue out to him, and that is when I realized what he was wearing. He had an actual tux on, like a cute little penguin. He had a yellow rose on his front pocket, and his face broke out into a smile when I looked up.

“You’re not wearing any pants.” I said, stifling a laugh while looking at his Perry the Platypus boxers.

“That’s because when I was just about to put on pants, I heard someone impatiently listening in to what I was doing.”

I smiled at him proudly, then I tried to take a peek of what was behind him. To my dismay, he tsked and blocked my view.

“If you’re going to keep doing that, how am I supposed to propose to you perfectly?”

His eyes widened at what he said, and closed his mouth shut. I was practically peeing myself now, the excitement rushing through me like a drug. He looked at me again, running his hand through his hair.

“Pretend you didn’t hear that okay?”

I nodded, unable to say anything. He then opened the door, and it revealed all my bags and books. They were arranged by color and shape, most books inside a bag. Petals of roses covered the floor, and it was dimly lighted. My brain buffered for a good minute, before I finally noticed him kneeling in front of me with what looked like a handle on his head.

“I know you treat your books and bags as your life. You treat them delicately, and every bag has a book. Everything you need is in a bag, and when you need a good distraction you have your book. I have that connection with my toys, but in a manly way.”

I laughed at what he said, tears brimming at my eyes.

“So I want to ask you this: could I be the one to carry your bag forever?”

I stared at him like he was an alien, not understanding what he said.

“I mean, you said earlier your bag is your life right?”

I nodded, still confused.

“Then could I carry you all your life?”

Realization struck me, and my heart skipped several beats, making me wonder if I was going to have a heart attack. I smiled at him, and slowly nodded. He smiled at me, slipping in the simple diamond ring into my finger. He then lifted me up, and I squealed in delight.

“What with the hair prop though?”

He put me down, then smiled like a little boy.

“I was going to dress up as a bag and say ‘Could I be a part of your life?’, but I figured that I was already a part of it. But I figured that out after I bought this.”

I laughed at his cheesiness, then he lifted me up bridal style.

“Shall I carry my fiance towards our bedroom?”

I looked around the mess in the living room, and looked at him.

“You know you’re going to clean this all up later. I don’t want my bags and books getting ruined because you-“

I was cut off by his lips, passionately entrancing me into a spell. I swear his kisses should be bottled up somewhere and be an illegal drug. He walked towards our room, and closed it with his foot. He slowly put me down, kissing the top of my nose.

“Care to dance my fiance?”

I stepped into his arms, and he began to sway us back and forth. I smiled onto his chest, excited what else life would bring me and my permanent bag carrier.
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Once again, fictional. I feel like a sappy romantic these days and my stories reflect it. Have a nice weekend! 😀

The Lexus and the Olive tree

If you take a look at the Philippines, what do you usually see at first glance? From my perspective, it is a country with people struggling everyday to compete with the international economy. It is a country in the works, continuously striving to be a part of the “big boys” But it is also a place filled with people who are grounded to where they came from, a country with traditions that are older than time itself. We have our beliefs in both our mythology and religion. Here, family is more important than anything. They have strong ties with where they came from, and we use the famous saying of our Philippine hero: “A person who does not know how look back from where he came from, will never get to his destination.” So before everything, let me introduce to you the concept of the Lexus and the Olive tree. As some of you may know, the Lexus is one of the world’s most expensive brand of cars. It is one of the top line cars out there, with its sleek designs and up to date equipment. Now imagine an Olive tree. An Olive tree has its roots firmly held unto the earth. Some of their huge roots can be seen above the soil. The Olive tree has gone through many things, but still firmly holds its ground. For the past semester, my teacher has been teaching us the world of globalization. I have learned that globalization is like tying up the world with one big knot. That knot includes the exchange of information, culture, economics, ideas and etc., between countries around the world. This way, everything is evened out for each country, giving each country the chance to compete against each other. It is like gathering countries together into one big ship, and being able to converse to each other freely. This also could assist businessmen in expanding globally, giving people jobs with each investor that comes in. Globalization also aids political leaders to become aware of what is happening in other countries. It also lends a hand in the advancement of technology, and giving people the information needed about our environment. Through globalization, the world is moving forward in the era of modernization. Our telecommunications has played a great part in tying up the world, making people go to places without leaving the comfort of their own home. Imagine a world without communication technology. A world without the internet, maybe we have a chance to survive. A world without your phone, perhaps. A world without your radio, maybe. A world without TV, maybe. But what about a world without all of these altogether? Before these inventions came to life, each country was blind with what was happening with the other. Products that are for sale would have different prices in different parts of the world, because there is no uniform price for them because of the loss of communication. Politicians would not be as “friendly” to each other, as they have to travel in person to meet one another, which can be tiring. People would not be aware of what is happening across the oceans, whether or not a war is happening or if there is a change of politics. Everyone would be technically blind with the world, and everything we know will shatter. These advancement in these innovations are categorized as the Lexus. For our Olive tree, we can simply describe this with the concept of our native land. These are the values and traditions that hold together a certain society, and has been a guide to how one must live. The Olive tree is just as important as the Lexus, because with the Olive tree is a world filled with history, lessons from mistakes and etc. With these in mind, where does it leave my country? We come from a strong Olive tree, rooted to the the land for thousands of years. Even with the colonization of different countries, we still have our values and traditions that keep us together. However with the fast paced world, we now constantly sacrifice our Olive tree in order to move ahead with the rest of the globe. We are struggling to find a balance between the two, barely holding on to the other. We compromise one so the other could succeed, and usually we are slowly uprooting our Olive tree to be able to drive our Lexus. In the end, it would really depend on the people within our country. Neither the historians nor the businessmen can dictate which would prevail in the end.

I believe however, that the Filipinos know better than to let go of the Olive tree. Because no matter how much we try to attach ourselves to the modern world, we would still be yearning for the simple life that we have grown accustomed to. No matter how many times we eat at Mcdonalds, we would still yearn for that home cooked meal from our mothers. No matter how far we are from our country we would still strive to keep to our values and the things taught to us by our elders.
But even with all of this, it’s still a world with opportunities that could be lost in a snap of a finger, and everyone is on their heels trying to even get a whiff of the opportunity. The Lexus is still trying to pierce through the Olive tree, almost crashing itself to it. We will only be the ones to blame if we allow the fall of our Olive tree. What others may not realize, is that we do not have to sacrifice one with the other. But that’s a real struggle isn’t it? You have to learn how to move fast, without really leaving where you came from.

And with the world as it is, will we actually find our balance between the Lexus and our Olive tree?

How about your country? Do you think you have found the balance with the two?

My first embarrassing moment

So just this afternoon, I went for a jog with my bestfriend. We were stretching and stuff, when I suddenly slipped and fell. Thanks to my super awesome reflexes (and the fact that I was used to falling), my hands and knees took the harsh fall instead of my face. and lo and behold, a gash showed on my right knee. People passed by us, because just my luck we decided to jog in the City’s Sports Development Center. It was downright embarrassing, and fate had to rub it in my face with a reminder of it. I got up, dusted myself off, and jogged as if my wound wasn’t so painful. I’m so used to these moments that I know what to do. (Which shows how clumsy I am)

Weirdly enough, this embrassing moment reminded me of my first embarissing moment. Imagine a kid, about four years old. Now imagine here in the Philippines we have jeepneys that have specific routes. Now my mom made me pay the driver. So there was little me, passing the fare. People were saying how cute I was. When handing over the fare to the driver you have to say where you are hopping off. Our house was in a barangay named “Nula-tula”. Now for a four year old, that word is a handful. So when I walked over to hand the fare I said, “Nulalata”. The passengers erupted into laughter, which made me cry. My perfectionist side was showing, and I hated myself for that mistake. And today, I have mastered the damn twister word. (Fourteen years later)

So why am I sharing this with you? I don’t really know. Maybe I just want to open up a long forgotten ghost within you about your embarrassing past. So what’s your first embarrassing moment? Maybe I’d write about it someday. 🙂

On being a contributor..

Being a seventeen year old writer(then) who wants to become a great writer is tiring to be honest. I have to find readers, people who are actually interested, then I have to balance school and my dream. It’s a great thing that my degree program is related to my dream, or else everything might go kaput. Anyway, this year has been awesome so far, and I can almost taste my dream coming into a reality. I’ve been guest blogging, publishing my works wherever I could, and slowly these efforts have been paying off. I have been chosen as a contributor for two magazines!

The first one, is a local magazine here in the Philippines. This magazine features Eastern Visayas, which is where I came from. It features those who came from our group of islands and made a very obvious footprint on the big world. It tells stories and shows people that everyone’s dream can come true. So here’s my first article on said magazine which was published last April:

It was really a great boost to my dream, because they wanted me to write in the magazine again! So just this October, the new issue came out:

And it’s really exciting! The second magazine that asked me to contribute was called LDR Magazine. So far, this is a new mag for long distance couples. For those of you who have read my article on long distance couples (read here), it was actually the one that attracted the editors to my blog! And so I’ve been asked to write articles, and when they updated their site, I saw it! (read here)

So it’s really exciting! Now that I’m eighteen, I can enter more blogs and magazines because I’m legal 🙂 I do hope I could reach my dreams one day! So I hope some of you could help me achieve my dream of being a full-on writer by either subscribing or recommending me to those interested!

I also want to thank all of YOU who read my blog. Without you, well, I’d still be writing with less than fifty views per day. <3

Moments before eighteen

Prologue:
If you’re reading this on the fourth of October, then it’s already too late-it means I’ve turned eighteen and now a legal resident of the Republic of the Philippines. I may or may have not been brainwashed into thinking like adults, or I have escaped that life. If I have not, then I may have turned into a drone, mindlessly following the rules of life. But if I haven’t, then I will carry on as I am, a misfit whose goal is to write at least ten books in my lifetime, and to become someone that people look up to.

Story:
As I sit here in front of my computer, typing these very words, I am savouring my last day of being seventeen. I’m thinking over all the pros and cons of being eighteen, and if there are more cons, I will try to find an elixir that will help me remain a seventeen year old forever. Here are the facts:

Pros:

I can go on fieldtrips without parent’s consent.
I can get my passport, driver’s license and etc. without parent’s consent.
Basically get legal documents without a letter of consent.
I can drive without having someone with a professional license in the car.
In the Philippines, you can only get a job when you’re eighteen.
I can enter contests that require me to be eighteen.
I can finally check that box that says “18+”
I can go on rides that require me to be eighteen.
I get to sit on the adults table.
I get to watch movies that are for 18+

Cons:

In the Philippines, when you’re under eighteen and you’re caught doing something illegal, you can’t be arrested. Therefore when I’m eighteen, I can get arrested if I do anything illegal.
I will be expected to act “grown up”
It would mean that soon, I’d be graduating college and starting my own life. (No more running to momma)
I can’t play anymore children games because I’d be seen as immature.
I have to do what grown ups do. (I have no definite idea what that is.)
People will call me ma’am. That makes me sound old.
Just being expected to be mature.

Epilogue:

As I have read and calculated my findings, it seems that there aren’t enough reasons for me not to become eighteen. So I shall proceed with this task that the future has given me. But I vow to myself, to never lose my child-at-heart persona, even when drones suck my brain to make me a “valuable” asset to society. Wish me luck world. 😀

When September ends

The darkness of the room envelopes me,

erasing my chances of being glee.

With Green Day playing in the background,

I say my thoughts aloud.

I think about the things I’ve done,

Whether or not I’ve been a good son.

The blaring of the TV fills the house,

making my radio seem as quiet as a mouse.

I rest my head on the pillow,

waiting for the tears to fall.
I then hear a knock on my door,
so towards it, I slowly start to crawl.

“I told you to wake me up when September ends!”
I say to my intruder.
I rest my head onto the wall,
the coldness on my skin made me shudder.

The banging went louder,
the door handle shook.
Just when I was ready for my doom,
I heard my mother say:
“It’s already October! Clean your room!”

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Happy October everyone! 😀

Can I do humor or what? If you didn’t get it, then I failed 😛