Missing House

No no no.

It's not true.

It can't be true.

How could this have happened?

Just get up and leave like that?

I stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty land. 

Our house left us.

And to make it worse, it took dad.

"So it's true!"said mom, shocked.

I didn't realize she was standing there. She must have arrived a few seconds ago. I was caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't even hear her.

Looking at the land where our house once stood, it looked like a dust of anti-matter swallowed most our property. All that remained reminded me of a construction sight. The only thing remaining were bits and pieces of metal, and our confused cat who was sniffing relentlessly at the empty land.

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I knew our house was unhappy. It made it clear that it wanted more affection and attention. 

How can you, when you come back home tired at the end of the day. God knows we tried so hard.

It made numerous threats about finding a better place. 

"One day you'll come back and you won't find me here".

But it's just a house. You don't take these kind of threats seriously. 

Or so we thought.

Dear Friend

Dear,

You were nobody. I was nobody. Our existence was irrelevant. I didn't matter. You didn't care. I didn't care that you didn't matter. 

But as life would have it, something changed. We shared a meal, a smile, a joke and a nod. All it takes is a quick glance and a glimmer of acknowledgment. Are you sure we've never met before?

Dear Friend,

I laughed, you cried, we traded stories. I think I know you, you really think you know me. I'm confident around you, you're comfortable around me. Differences? They don't exist in our world. 

It's just that one thing, you see...well, no. It's irrelevant. Insignificant! It doesn't bother you. Well, it really doesn't upset me. 

Dearest Friend, 

I did this. You said that. How can I think this way? Why are you acting like that? What's wrong with me? It has to be you. No, it's definitely me. 

I will never change. You'll always stay the same. Change is inevitable. Roll with the punches. That's not a scar, it's just a bruise. Time is the best healer.

Dear Friend,

Borrow a Hand

'Can I borrow your hand?' she asked.

'Sure!' I said.

She held my hand at the wrist, wrapping it with her tiny manicured fingers. With a sudden jolt, she twisted as hard as she could.  

'What are you doing? What do you want?' I panted, holding back tears. I was, after all, with new company and had to be on my best behavior. 

'I already told you' she said, exasperated from having to explain. She did not appear to be the type of person who explains her actions to anyone at all. 'I want to borrow your hand'.

'Then tell me what you need!' I cried.

She took one quizzical look at me and muttered 'Queer. Very queer indeed. Darling can you come in here?'

First Post

The reason I have created this blog is due to Dina's very torlerable nagging.
Dina, my best-friend-slash-soul-mate has been, beyond a doubt, a very loyal fan regarding the random writings and thoughts that I jolt down.
Both her and my mother (also, my best friend) have been on my case, for a really long time now, to start a blog for the purpose of sharing what I write.

So mom, Dina, without further adue, this is for you.

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For those of you who don't know me,  I'm an avid reader and I do love to write, from thoughts, essays to fictional pieces. I write what I feel and I feel what I write.

I do hope you can enjoy my posts and i'm always interested in hearing feedback.