If your happiness needs witnesses, you’re still not very sure of it.
Letter to the 2009 version of Annie M.
"Girl, what’s happening and how are you doing today? I’m sure you’re somewhere chilling, drinking, gambling, puking or smoking up maybe? Why are you doing this, is it because you’re not your biggest fan? I understand, I know what it feels like but I’ve got an amazing tip for you to raise your self-esteem to a level you can’t even dream of right now.
STOP obsessing over how many waves to surf on your thighs can make when you hit them, or over how you can probably play the harp with the rolls of fat on your stomach, and START CARING about the less fortunate, START doing whatever you can to change other people’s lives, whoever they are. Why are you looking at your friends’ lack of values as if you were all raised the same way? Look at them all today, are they honestly the kind of people you’d want to be in 5 years? Don’t wait 5 years to start doing things, don’t wait 5 years to start writing that book you’ve been wanting to, you can do things, you can change things, if only you could trust your abilities a little more.
You already know material things don’t matter much and financial misery won’t break you because you know it is temporary. Being broke, begging in train stations for some change and sleeping in abandoned cars is something you’d never have to do again and blaming God for whatever will happen to you will not help. Start trusting Him completely better now than later.
Lastly, emotional pain? Don’t worry about that, you’re one hell of a tough cookie but pain is inevitable, don’t try too hard to stop it from coming or it’d hurt even more. The way people will feel about you, the way things will work out, the way relationships unfold? You can’t control them all, it would be like trying to stop a massive hemorrhage with a Q-tip.
Look up, stand up, speak up. You matter.
- A 2014 version of yourself.”
I wanted to explore the mind of a serial heartbreaker, so here it is. “Ethan” by Annie M.
"My name is Ethan. They call me the bastard, the fucker, the one we can’t trust, who will demolish you in a few hours, with some fake smiles and idle words.
.. Women, I break their hearts.
And I love that. When I start, it’s always the same scenario. They’re either alone or in groups. The worst is when they’re all together. I deeply stare at them, and I choose the one that laughs the hardest, that speaks the most. I come closer and I whisper some shit in her ear; I savor this arrogant attitude she first displays, but then, she goes away from her friends and lowers her defenses. I think of her bruised face, when I’d havedumped her. When I’d have fucked her. But it’s not even for sex you know. To tell the truth, I no longer take pleasure in it. It’s just a personal satisfaction to see all these hypocritical idiots drop their masks, and reveal their fragility in a waterfall of tears.
When the curtain falls, they forget their roles, they hide their faces. Inside, they are ruined, and outside, their bodies speak for themselves. And that’s when I leave. When they are on the ground, out of breath, their faces ravaged by tears, at the end of everything.
My name is Ethan. I don’t love anybody, and nobody loves me.
Love is just a lie created to give sense to our most wicked desires. It’s a platidunous word we constantly use, to justify a constant need of a presence to fight the solitude that haunts us, to justify the thirst that continuously takes us when we want to see Love in someone else’s eyes. But the truth is, what the other sees in our eyes, it’s himself, and what he likes inside it, it’s still his own reflection.
We don’t love, we’re just looking for nothing but ourselves.”
I guess it’s a little unusual but every month, I love reading plenty of books at the same time, just like you’d watch your favorite TV series. I wander the chapters of one book and I jump into the train of thoughts of the other, and I long for the story I first left behind and it just feels as if I’m traveling between worlds and beyond.
In my current readings, I get a weekly dose of inspiration from “Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage” served tenderly with “A cup of Comfort” and some kick-ass motivation for the woman I want to be in “Grand Pursuit” (Excellent!). I don’t forget to get my facts straight with “A tale of two worlds” and “100 essential things you didn’t know (Math explains your world)”, before switching to quick reads in taxis and waiting lines with “The woman he loved before” or “The bird catcher”. And finally at night, I fall asleep with my favorite from this selection: “Strange tales from a Chinese studio”, Asian literature being my favorite since I was a little kid thanks to Pearl Buck, my favorite author.
Books never betray, have no unrealistic expectations and can always be counted on for comfort… They are without a single doubt the loves of my life. (My birthday is coming up people, hints for y’all, I’m a simple lady to please! 😄)
Except for the current situation of women in certain countries, women surely have come a long way… When it comes to space program, saying they are now kicking ass is an understatement! Proud of you all. Sky is not the limit, and you are an inspiration to many little girls that dare to dream and want to become astronauts, Eva ma beautiful 9 y.o niece included. Grab the ring and hold on tight!
Suicide bombings in Yemen. Kenya mall terror attack. Suicide bomb attack at historic church in Pakistan. Boko Haram Islamic-terrorist related violence. News are getting scarier by the day. Oops I meant to say, by the second…
Here we are with our centuries of progress and civilization, confronted to problems we can not solve because of the INCAPACITY of nations to come to an understanding, as it would imply sacrificing on the altar of general interest, their personal one.
It is true that these terrorists inspire hatred, but this is the goal of the ones that manipulate them as they desperately pursue the sick taste of stolen power. Now to rise against the barbarism of these attacks is one thing. But to deliberately confuse radical islam THE CULT and Islam the religion, while creating speedy amalgams and giving in to the hate calls against the Muslim community is definitely another. Religion has always been THE excuse. These guys are brainwashed and deprived of free will, they make up their own interpretation of their holy book, they dream of themselves as heroes and come for most, from poor, UNEDUCATED and decimated families. They are angry at the whole wide world including their wives they can not make cum, and the only thing left to do is well… pick the apple from the tree! So the first smarter guy to stick a gun in their hands obtain these results we hear of everyday.
They are COWARDS who dare justifying themselves, still believing they are conveying some sort of message. Would they only dare attacking a military garrison or a police-station? NO, because they know how poorly they would perform if they were to be involved in an actual fight. And the fact that they disguise themselves as women is loud enough! You can be enraged, but still have a minimum sense of HONOR, respect for yourself and decency. These extreme islamists are lacking it and are only valuable if they could all be stored in the package of human waste, along with the Nazis or the Red Khmers, and unfortunately SO many others. I hope they are doomed to disappear especially that their lousy strategy always consists of dying with the victims.
I pay tribute to all the victims of these bloodsheds all around the world. We owe these carnages to the stupidity of some WORTHLESS, contemptible and despicable human beings I regret to have to call my peers.
- Imperfectly yours
Dear elected of providence,
My name doesn’t matter because your life is about to change, for the better or the worse. Prepared under the influence of a cocktail of barbiturates, mysterious mushrooms from Indonesia and colorful other substances, this letter is a link of a chain with miraculous virtues. You would find it entirely beneficial to copy it 199 times by hand - and more if you feel like it - if you want to find the answers you are looking for. It won’t be too long before happy events come your way and shatter your unhappy and pitiable life. Warning: This chain cannot be broken under any circumstance. You may regret it forever, or worse, not have the time left to.
Here are the stories of a few subjects among a thousand others, to demonstrate the effects of this chain letter. Remember, there is never a turn back…
- Subject No. 1, an ambitious and driven burglar, reads the letter but has little time to waste on dictation exercises and draws on it, complex plans to rob the new house he spot in a distant neighborhood. Arrived on the crime scene, he is about to rethink his career choice after stumbling upon the owner of the split-level home right there in the dark; but the fact that he is faced with a little person awakes in him a certain kind of bravery. Confident that he could quickly take care of him and get back to work, he was about to reach the end of this whole line of reasoning when this same owner, a martial arts honoree, hastily re-arranged his face right before sending him to a truly uncomfortable hospital bed. After recovery, Subject No. 1 decides to pursue his old childhood dream of becoming an actor. His biggest and most ironic role to date: Giggly, the dwarf warrior in The Boobs of the Kings, a low-budget African remake of the classic, that remained dreadfully unnoticed in the $250 million 2nd largest movie industry, Nollywood.
- Subject No. 2, a supercilious, big-headed - in both senses of the term – and arrogant man with a massive weight “advantage”, gets fired from his job at the zoo and argues when he gets home, with his inflatable doll Lola that promised him “her” lifetime companionship at crushing his candy everyday. Angry and out of toilet paper, he uses the letter to wipe his derriere. He ends up moving back with his parents, finding himself unable to make his rent. A week after that, he inherits from a distant relative the sum of 100$… at Monopoly. But his smile, while holding the so hardly-acquired bill, shrinks like a closing door when his irritably perfect younger sibling tries to take the last muffin on the table. On his discourteously abrupt way to reach the goodie first, it only took a few seconds for him to also choke on the one he still had in his throat and to die with an unrivaled facial expression. His little sister later confesses that after calling 911, she had already put the muffin far away from imprudent and avid looks, for later purposes. Eating the cake for her symbolizes more than just eating a simple pastry, she wants to honor it and ascertain that he did not leave this world in vain.
- Profoundly miserable in their marriage but incapable of being the first one to leave, Subjects No. 3 and No. 4 separately receive the letter and decide to keep luck on their side by completing the task, writing both the letter 199 times. A few days after this event, No. 4 discovers the fresh reply to a detailed ad her husband has published everywhere on the Internet several months ago: “To sell: 2,000 $, my blue-eyed wife Amber Conel. Her beauty remains in the eye of the beholder, but her breasts, small but firm with an instant ON option, grow in direction of the moon and will remind you of the sun of the Gold Coast islands, even if you’ve never been. You will enjoy holding them in your little hands; they are the kind of appetizers that love to be nibbled to harden our feelings. But she’s not very good at cooking, cleaning or making jokes. Average-cost maintenance, unguaranteed mileage, comes with all her clothes, shoes, wigs and some extra bonuses: Facility to spend other people’s money, strident voice, ability to argue from 8 a.m. to 8 a.m and receptionist skills to take your messages.” She flies away to Barbados with the gentleman that replied to the ad, a shy co-worker that has always been in love with her. With the 2,000 $ gained, Subject No. 3 plays poker and wins against his friends, five times the amount.
- Subject No. 5, a very thirsty-for-life secretary has nothing else to do for the day, when she receives the letter. She immediately starts copying the letter 199 times, with uncontained ardor and waits. In effect, although she had told everybody she had given up on love, she was still vehemently looking for it on eHarmony. She eventually starts corresponding with a new guy online, a soon-to-be octogenarian business magnate with no family, to whom she forwards the letter but purposely advises him not to bother with such superstitions. When they meet a few weeks later, as expected like in a good cliché, he falls in love. You would think that a guy that had seen the World War II, found his way up to success at the costly price of solitude, would pay more attention to potential gold diggers but, no. Too naive to see that her viagra would be his credit cards, he marries her the very same night. “Life is short”, he claims. He has no doubts about how right he is but to back up his point even further, his heart suddenly fails him during a sexual intercourse, inept to take such abundant joy. Subject No. 5 hits two jackpots at once: He dies while ejaculating, and she gets the money. Is there really a loser?
- When Subject No. 6 was elected president, he succeeded in erasing some promises in his drafts, but not in the memory of his people. He was so disliked, but would argue in his favor that honesty in politics is one of the hardest positions to maintain, making the Kama Sutra’s look like warm-up exercises in comparison. When he takes a look at the letter, he shakes his head wondering if he really wants to lead a nation that believes in such frivolities in the first place, and throws it in the garbage. The same night at his mistress’ house while receiving the kind of fellatios her older sister - his wife - didn’t know the secret of, his loud groans made the colossal dog behind the door think its master is in danger. And in an expected turn of events, her dog enters the room, jumps on the bed, bites off his penis and runs away. The balls were happily spared after a 6h operation to clean it all up, but they remain quite lonely and wonder day after day, what could now be their use. For obvious reasons, he ultimately resigns from office.
- Subject No. 7, a prom king wannabe, hates his Catholic school with an unhidden passion solely because girls wear underwear. Confused, egoistical, sexually frustrated and unable to answer the question: “What are your plans after high school?”, he tempts his luck and takes the week-end to copy the letter 199 times. Unfortunately, the weed he smoked makes him realize how stupid of an idea this is and stops at the 198th time. The same night, Samantha the girl of his dreams accepts to go on a ride with him. Things are finally getting intense in the car when a poor manipulation makes him crash the car that ejects Samantha-The-Saint out on the road, completely naked. The following day, she initiates her vengeance scheme and starts the rumor about how astonished she is to note that his “Transformer” is not recorded in the Guinness world records as the world’s tiniest penis. All the girls stayed even further away from him after that, making his final year high school experience, more than delicate. In the space of one night, his prom king dream and his self-esteem both jumped out of the window. He is currently in a crappy pop-rock band constituted of him and his handicapped squirrel.
- Subject No. 8, a well-respected man of God always claims that if he only had one thing to keep in his pocket for the rest of his life, it would be faith because it takes little room. He receives the letter and asks The Most High to forgive these little jokers, but doesn’t bother putting it far away from the evil eye. His 4 y.o baby niece finds it and eats it, proving once more the point that kids are quite frankly, stupid creatures. 48 hours later, a gay orangutan finds its way inside his once pious and virtuous dreams, just before calling all its mates to enjoy with him the newly found sexy human meat. They repeat the experience every other night, until Subject No. 8 starts to slowly get eaten by shame every minute he is not asleep. He knows these are only nightmares, but the pleasure he receives in them made him so guilty, he departs for a religious retreat, never to come back.
Well now… If you want to live success and caress voluptuousness at high frequency, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE GOT LEFT TO DO.
- Someone that wants good for you.
(Creative writing exercise of the day)
Welcome, I guessed you were a guest and not to incite your insight, but have you seen the rose at the end of the rows? // Its presence there is the most beautiful of all presents, but have you heard the upcoming steps of the herd? // They were too, able to sense the scent it sent, but because they love easy preys, would the predators listen even to somebody that prays? // Before it gets to get rapped, I want it to be wrapped around my prose because rapt also has its pros, so if I find it, steal it and protect it, will I be fined? // I’m no prophet but I want to be the heroine, and trust that this is not for profit, or thus I would’ve already been selling heroin. // Beautiful rose, I chose to write the playwright because I know this rite of mine is right, let’s escape even for a couple of hours, until the whole world becomes ours.
- Imperfectly yours.