Did you say I’m crazy? Lemme find your ass and..

Someone told me I have a dual personality. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of it. Not that I keep a list of first impressions, among other things that have been said such as smart, arrogant, funny, weird, cute (that’s beside the arrogant part), the “dual thing” doesn’t really fascinate me. It’s a lame excuse for association to the Blackwidow persona of my writings and for not fully understanding my orientation. I am fully me and there’s no distinct differentiation of personalities living in one body. I don’t know if the “talking inside my head” can be psychologically accounted to such disorder but I would like to think that I am capitalizing on the limitless brain capacity.

The Blackwidow isn’t really my idea. I have kept most of my writings in a secret journal while posting bits of my stories in Facebook. People were encouraging me to set up a blogsite and quite frankly, I was fond more of traditional pen writing.  Then I thought it’s about time to release some of the raging. I didn’t want to put out a name which leads to finding a masterful anonymous character. My sister who has known my distasteful history for a long time but has no interest in seeing my writings blurted out that she reminds me of the Blackwidow (I had no idea what it was!). While doing my research, I was already aware of how it’s going to impact my social and dating escapades. I didn’t give a shit though. The outcome is astonishingly the opposite of expectation.

You have to understand that I have only allotted an insignificant energy to pituitary. Most of my energy are consumed exploring on what deems practical. Because of that, a momentary rush of emotions could be explosive.

Honestly, I try to limit the creativity in public for safety. The rest of ideas are passing morons that should be ignored and some kept in cryptic exposition. While making little  money on writing travel articles in www.infobohol.ph and legal content for online divorce services in Texas, my novel gets a big chunk of it. The story is the only world where I can lament on my innate character. Let’s say Mikolai set out a flying gear to spy on an illegal shipment of hypnotic drug in one of the private ports in Davao. CIA had observed manufacturing of this drug commonly in Communist countries that are produced according to their by-the-book policies. The hypnotic drug, along with opium and cocaine regulated and originally shipped to US and Europe has to be transported to another point of entry. What this has to do with the church leader political influences and human trafficking will be up to my twisted novel.

The next few weeks, I’d be a certified French speaker commoner saying a le semain prochaine in goodbyes. This a passive rant towards those who have assumed wrong. Of course I am weird. I would say the same thing to everyone who leads a secret life in their heads. Just because I’m not out there living and behaving normally doesn’t make me a threat or psychologically incapacitated. The general subjective characterization of my personality will not at all, in any way, motivate me to change or come out from invisibility. I feel sorry though that one aches to feel but not able to touch.. because that’s just WHO I am.

Confessions of the Blackwidow

Today, I’m going to try something different because my therapist (the other half of my brain) said so. I have to confess that I have problems with maintaining interest in people. I never had issues with dating. In fact, I have problems keeping the numbers low. It’s not bragging really. In a crowded full of room, my personality beams like Annie exploring the sun, flowers and the grass and then suddenly snaps. I just start hating the tremors of their sound waves, their desperate faces for connection and their attempts to suffocate my precious space. That saying “No man is an island” doesn’t apply to my begotten illness.

One man said, “..maybe it’s just insecurity.” I had to think for a moment if it was. Uhm,.. sadly I’m completely aware of power puff pussy. I don’t think that people completely understand my myths of dissociation until they get it. I was fair, as far as I’m concerned. Across some dangling virtual door, those who have knocked were forewarned of my tendencies. I even supported claims with innumerable unknown victimized names. Their heads would be nodding, mumbling  uh-huh, uh-huh and then dismiss it. Few weeks after, they’d wake up each morning cursing “where the fuck are you bitch?!”

I’m not going to pretend this is normal, and that maybe, in some dimension my psychopathic logic is acceptably reasonable. If you’re aware of physiological antennae’s on insects—the way ants know it’s going to rain, or the deer feels the ground vibrating from an impending predator. Mine is screwed up. It has grown strong that it had become paranoia. I feed and savage on intentions. Act on it to persecute its implications. Do you feel me? I guess not. Sometimes though, I am bothered if intentions could be changed by a powerful human driven factor called love. Are intentions like DNA prints? Can it be potentially altered? Maybe. I’ve never seen it happen yet. Intentions are like habits. It is a form of addiction creeping like maggots on a tiny bitsy dead part of human soul. That in particular smells distinctly to me.

I have not written the continuation part of the story for over 2 weeks. It had stopped at when Mikolai was strangling away from this man she’s bound to fall in love with. I’m beginning to think that a part of her character mirrors mine..

Dating Exposition of the Blackwidow Matchmaker

Get down to the point Lady! Ask what kind of psychotic he is.

Get down to the point Lady! Ask what kind of psychotic he is.

I hate dating, more so online dating. To me, its formula is as boringly structured as sales. Listen, listen listen. Ask, ask, ask. Share, share, share. Then eliminate the bullshits and close it. So my personality is well oriented by a system, which changes through time when new details come along. The goal of the whole process and standards I’ve set is to know behavioral patterns of the other person for matchmaking purposes. Yes, I am a matchmaker with weird rational for psychology. I have to give credit to Dr. Nicolas (my Biochemistry advisor) and Dr. Engle (my physical chemistry professor) who were believers of my unconventional analytical skills. I have been a disappointment to them though for taking notice of their behavior more than their lectures.

I have been researching on 5 personality types to correlate with compatibility tests. Quiet frankly, I have found them irrelevant because each can become inherent in certain percentile by different factors such as age and experience. Let’s just say that humans morph like crazies when stimulated. It seems that this is one of the challenges of relationship or establishing connection. They turn into someone we don’t know.

Now I am a sucker for analogies, that including my Growth Ring theory on perception. In this case, I would like to use rules in balancing chemical equation for matchmaking. (Blame the coffee please!). Every human being represents a pure element, and that I meant as newborn with unique experience. He or she becomes a complex compound through time as a consequence of chemical reaction (which I will refer to as influences of events, or people we’ve connected with).

Hence,

C does not compliment O or H in the equation. But these compounds balance in this manner,

C5H12 + 8O 2 —> 5CO2 + 6H2O

If you noticed, we are configured differently but are related to each other by a common experience. This common denominator is what connects us and sometimes stirs the attraction. So in my state of being right now, Mr. Unknown (with a complementing character developed from personal experience) completes the balance of equation. Through the course of relationship, time or events could change someone’s original conformation to another complex compound. To maintain the balance, one must adhere to the change of another.

What are these complementing behaviors? These are behaviors associated to roles such as leader-follower, dominant-submissive, provider-dependent, etc. You cannot have two traits gearing towards different directions nor that which has no correlation to each other.

So the matchmaking process starts with finding a point of connection, usually relating to a common experience that has produced complementing opposite traits.

I can extend the validity of my assumptions if an outlined scientific method is employed with measurable results and considerable number of test subjects. Raise your virtual hand if you want to volunteer. :)

Rules of Online Dating—Attracting the Right People

chat

The rules of online dating here are not structured to tolerate other intentions than establishing a potential relationship. My pessimism towards that venue has not changed given everyone’s common orientation. We can’t really pull it back. Technology has favored not only the business antics but encouraged mankind’s exhibitionist nature. It is the least of my option even if I’ve adjusted well to hermit lifestyle. Online, although a lot would argue with my generalization, is a main doorway to geographically deprived socials; to psychologically eccentric habitats; to humans unstably configured emotionally; and to polyamorous sexuals. I guess these are the safest choices since average socials extend to real life interaction and therefore spend limited time on the net, while the rest are categories you don’t want to expound more for obvious reasons (namely the pervs, serial killers, prostitutes, bullies, scammers, etc).
You have to understand that those experienced “searchees” are meticulous on profile specifics. Others are randomly browsing until they hit a jackpot. Remember that desperation means social incapacity and ignorance. Those who have value maintain a private status in terms of contact information, have truthful details of basic profile and creatively tag a personal description. Pictures are often the main attraction, reason why people are blindsided by the other essentials of character knowing. I personally hate half naked, gym pictures..even those taken in the bathroom. It’s acceptable to show off in photoshoots, creative shots, outdoor activities, etc. This is to remind you again that although people love to peek through suggestive pictures, you are trying to filter out engagement based on intentions.
Besides coherence in profile information, the next step is to watch out for subconscious behavior divulged. The manner of writing should give a hint of who he or she claimed for. “Hi” introductory is way too bland, unless your profile picture makes up to creative deficiency. Asking for request or permission questions obviously shows inhibition due to previous ignores or rejects. Send a remark or interesting practical questions..and please, gear away from quotes you’ve gotten from “how a loser finds a date” references. If you’re chatting with an intellectual person, avoid being repetitive of what he or she says by rewording it in different context. It’s not impressive. Never end with a statement until you have come across the interactive stage. Asking a question back is a good sign. Don’t assume by starting with a sense of endearment. Flattery is only great by limitation. Frequent use of that style is a serious tint of habit (that affirmed to be apparent with whoever you talk to).
I know people want to always “get down to business” part—the camera. Although you are desperately trying to find out what’s behind the interesting character, it seems safer and psychologically critical to determine intentions from priorities set. If you’re not interested in implementing this mode, then you are wasting time on baggage full of attention seekers. Let’s compare this analogously to an actual getting-to-know interaction. Initial physical attraction takes place which eventually fades away after a short period of assessing perceived character. This is probably the only advantage of online interaction. You have the means to establish a solid relationship building before the appreciation of physical. Now I completely understand your worries. This could result to an impending bare social access, which I disagree with conviction. Don’t be too greedy now with attention. Friends I have known for over a year through online, successfully went through the barriers of my reluctance. It was worth it. Just to give you an idea, a realistic amount of time before giving it a go on the camera is at least a month, that depending still on the frequency of interaction.
I cannot 100 percent assure you the success of these rules but it will definitely lessen your virtual heartache (a promising terminology perhaps). The real art of character knowing comes with intimate distance—that is no way achieved in real life dating nor virtual togetherness.

The 6th Fatal Sense

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. Well I did alot of writing the past few days because my job said so, but not the kind that knocks on the black woman inside me. So I started a new routine program to recover from indignat rest–exercise, french and literature class, article writing, research and more research.. I didn’t put attention lately to my character.. she who has mimicked the anti social blackwidow. Maybe I’m still healing from my lost.

Sometimes in bed, I’d hear the ground shaking. Maybe it’s just me. I have a vague distinction between  real and manifested paranoia. Just so I could unburden myself with questions no one wants to hear, I’d bury those dysfunctional senses as perennial actualization of feelings. All of it has no physiological or metaphysical sense. But everything is written in a journal because all of it were as clear as the elements of nature. Don’t try to understand it. You might end up assuming this requires an outside help.

After Little Kitty’s death, Little Ratty has become more comfortable engaging. Last night, he drew back and forth while I was at the balcony smoking. He’s probably weighing my response. I ignored him and so he went even closer, buddying up with my insensitivity. And that was it. I left pride beaten up by a pest.

Tonight, I had few seconds to come out and look up again. The sky is cloudy and the moon is structurally in weird form. For a moment I thought my vision is getting worse. It always has been. The moon is not what it used to be.. color..shape.. hidden among the conniving clouds. Seconds after, it was gone.. I hate it when it feels like this. I knew that something is wrong. The only plausible explanation is.. my head is parasitically infected..

 

Die Now Ms. Kitty

I’m writing this to remind me of Kitty who has died peacefully, finding her way back to me. Thrown twice, her last attempt to come back caused her dehydration and abused from people. I sneaked her in my room, laid that night exhausted and sick.. They’d laugh at me knowing it had caused me pain.. And so, I am sending her my thoughts to know that there’s one who has only cared..

Die Now Ms. Kitty

Light possessed by dark images
stolen from the womb of comfort
take the pain for it won’t be long.
Drink from black waters of regret
You will find me soon

You will be taken.
Do not be afraid.
Use your heart to follow through.
Embrace the light that has guided you once
Remember my touch when you’re down

Bleeding and bruised.
Long travel failed to wither that will
It was worth it–the love you long to feel
Now lay in my arms, rest from world’s neglect
Die now Ms. Kitty, hold my hand in your sleep..

Chapter 12–The 13th Man

Burden of Tracks

Once again I’m stuck leering at my reflection for I don’t know how long. Can I trust you? Can I trust myself? Maybe not.. For the first time, I have felt the need to be saved. So I can look closer. Feel closer. Bargaining with fate to give me a short moment of denial. Maybe I’m not completely who I am. Maybe there’s a hole in me replaceable with human parts.. or still human. I could imagine Elena whispering in angst the philosophy of self sacrifice I’ve been trained for years. To burn oneself for the safety of others. To consume strength, to give up life, to leave desires.. for the sake of human life. But he makes me feel.. Fuck it! It can’t be. There’s unconditional heavy weight in my chest. It gets heavier by the second until I’m gasping for air. What is this? My hand clasps on the wall caving in to demented sense of illness. The unknown starts moving. I don’t want to watch this time rearrange itself into anything unexpected. I’m not ready for that. My eyes close hearing nothing but a faint wimp. What is this? A tear. Then a gush liberated by first feeling of orgasm. I am crying. I am crying like a human. I open my eyes to witness a ridiculous apparition. My emotions are wildly confused by amazement and pain. I am staring at myself.. my old face without cursing at ganglia for demanded thoughts. I need my pills. A smoke to sift through every fiber of confusion. I have to run out for a pack.

Cocktail dress and accessories lay unset on the bed. Randomly picking up clothes from a pile, I change into plain white shirt, denim shorts and sport shoes.

Walking like a corpse who had lost her soul somewhere, I’m half running the street. Careless has taken me to the next level. I’m usually conscious when out but not tonight. Half of the brain focuses on bringing me to destination while half is gliding above..lost. I just have enough to buy coffee and smoke. Two blocks after, as I’m about to make a turn, a white Ford screeches in the corner almost knocking me out. Practically knocking my brain out. This madness is gona kill me. But I’m gona have to kill this asshole first. Man in a business suit got out of the car, probably looking for a confrontation. Hoping he won’t but I think it’s too late. I’m more than surprised as he got closer. You are out of your mind!

“Hey! Are you out of your mind? You could have been hit. This is probably the second time that happened tonight. You know what’s odd?”

Keep your mouth shut Mikolai. “She doesn’t look like you but she vaguely feels like you.” His eyes obscured by discomposure. “I mean, she seems related to you in a way.”

“Sorry, but I have to be somewhere.” I’m in desperate need to distance from him.

“Where?”

“You know what’s weird? I don’t think I remember reporting my whereabouts to anyone.. especially to a stranger.” My annoyance is genuine but he looks at me unshaken.

His hand took mine anchoring with certainty of not letting go. I feel warm inside. “I’ll take you. It’s unsafe to be walking around here.”

“I don’t need you to. Besides, how would I know I’d be safe with you.”

His eyes are melting my will. It is obvious. I’m defeated by his mere silence. I cowardly followed while he opens the door for me.

He readies the wheel, demanding to a seven year old heart. “So, where to?”

“Do you have the habit of abducting people you’ve just met?”

“This is not the first time we’ve met. And I’m not abducting you..yet” He’s now focused on maneuvering the steering gears.

Did he just say yet?? I hate the feeling of being lead, even when Elena instructs a task. But this feels different. I feel liberated and safe. “Ministop please. Straight and then–”

“I know where it is.” You are one fuckin’ domineering dog. “So how long have been you staying at Trump’s?”

“Excuse me?! Have you been following me?”

“No. I just drove my fiancee back to her place. Saw you when I was passing that corner coming out of Trump’s”

“and almost hit me.” I don’t believe you. He’s quiet adamant at responding further. We finally stop at the store.

“I’ll wait.”

“Don’t” He looks away stubbornly dismissing every word..

I walk in peeping through stands while pretending to pick up more stuff. What the fuck are you doing? Leave! Just leave…

to be continued..

Chapter 11–The 13th Man

continuation..

Driver attends to me opening the door of black limo parked in front of the condo.

 

“Mr. Sanchez is waiting for you at the hotel,” He politely reasons for his absence. His defenses makes him uneasy stealing an admiring glimpse of tight cream beaded knit covering. The half length dress exposes toned legs overworked from contortions. Silhouette becomes more daring with its surprising low v cut back. Just enough dose to get close to the subject. Tonight, something is pulling me towards unspoken force.. I am confusingly warm and cold inside.

 

We quickly glide through city lights beaming still at every corner competing with those dancing and blinking among buildings. An army of obligated bodies are walking around for temporary relief. The thought makes me hate mankind, unworthy of being saved. A forty-minute drive brought us to a three-story mansion house in Antipolo city’s Beverly Hills. Driveway is far wider than his secret residence in North Forbes Park. Well kept garden is radiating in green and varied blossoms. They have considerable lighting to parade such beauty. I feel naked as soon as I walk in the entrance hall. Their looks are inspecting more than bewildered. Sanchez, who’s exchanging talks with three men in classic black and gray business suits, turns to meet me before anyone steps up.

 

“Azezi, nice to see you,” Tilting my head quick as his lips land on the cheek.

 

“I miss you dear.” Hand slips at the back, gently leading me to here and there associates.

 

“Senator Sanchez!” Voice comes from behind, louder than crowd musings. Oh hello Vasquez. We finally meet. “So this is your biggest secret. I can understand why you’ve kept her. A rare diamond indeed.” He gives a mild kiss on the hand while his wife rolls an envious stare.

 

“Mr. Vasquez this is Kristova. She lives in Russia doing modeling. But her family owns an oil company in Dubai.” He smiles proudly of his trophy.

 

“Nice to meet you. Thank you.” My consonants are rougher than usual.

 

“So when is the date? I will definitely adjust my schedule for that occasion.”

 

Sanchez followed quickly like he has a grandeur proposal ready. “We will come to that once her schedule is straightened out.” I blankly stare as if confused at how the conversation is going.

 

“You have to meet my godson getting married next month. He must have great tips on getting that proposal worked out for you,” He grins then tours his head around. “Hugo!” A man in elegant Boss coat covering a sultry chest in plain white shirt graciously smiles back in our direction.

 

Tell me I am fuckin’ dreaming.. This is definitely the best moment to self harm—a waking good smack from wild incantation. It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.. Hoping hypnotism could rearrange the situation or by miracle, change it. He looks suspended in air flapping his wings around smokey ground. Next face to him gives me an evil look, brows frowning up nowhere. I gotta stop taking too much caffeine..or drugs.

 

“Hi,” I’ve shaken hands for the nth time but this one leaves a mark. I am more than pleased to give my hand. Dammit! Stop with eye contact..

 

Sanchez breaks the sudden silence, “Ijo, this is Senator Sanchez and his girlfriend Kristova. This fine lady here is Victoria, soon-to-be Mrs. Zobel.” Woman holds firmly to his arm like a fiery amazon. “Hugo’s family owns one of the biggest financial and risk management firms in the country.” Men do a firm handshake weighing each other’s stature. I excuse myself to the washroom which is inside a museum-like hall, an extension of mini pond bridge and six sided gazebo.

Mirror is talking to me again while tapping a mild powder on the face. Stop with your crazy childish babbling before you fail this mission. Remember what Elena said.. Start huffing all hysterical feelings inside. Breathe in, breathe out..

 

Just as I dash out, my face knocks into a human wall. I’m slowly fainting from smashing force and recognizable heavenly scent.

 

“Sorry, I think you have just used men’s washroom. I hope you are not what I think you are,” I awkwardly stretch my head a bit to check the door sign. Why do I get dumber ten-fold every time we bump into each other?

 

“Oh, I so sorry. Mesh arfa,” There are two options for escape here. I could just use the ready anesthetic pocket gas and fade out, or squeeze my body out into small space between. I tried the second one but he keeps that option blocked.

 

“Wait. Do I know you? Have we met before?” Keep your eyes down Mikolai.

 

“No..no..Marafaksh” My force shows off a little, pushing him as I found my way out. The safest position at this point would be to stay right beside Sanchez, far from Hugo’s baffled look. My initial purpose to socially know the subject is arrayed by out of focus.

 

“I go now Azezi. My head not good.” Request went well, negotiated by “quality time” this weekend. Hugo is out of sight before I left. Same guy waiting at the limo drives me back to the condo. My heart races as distance takes me away from unsettling experience. Who are you? How are you connected to them? I don’t want to find out but I have to…

 

I am Dead. Please Don’t Look for Me..

It is what it is. I want people who have known me personally for a brief short period, even those who have shared their momentous experiences to know that I am dead, cradled by darkness. I never existed. Just a nameless breeze humming a second pat on the skin.Please don’t look for me. Don’t try reaching out any means possible. Although I have yet to resolve some final engagements, those days will soon be over.

Don’t mistake this as a suicidal mumblings. Cinematic sentiments are really not my thing. This is a principle. I am engulfed by my anxiety towards people. I hate to be seen…encrypted.. disgusted by any fierce attempts to capture my edible heart. Anyone who can find the key to never-before-cracked soul can kill me, or swallow me whole. That’s meaning it plainly or rhetorically.

Nothing to worry as I’m at peace with this silence. The state of being alone is giving me utmost freedom to behave without inhibitions.. without hurting anyone to say the least. My goals and the rest of how this life will be spent is based on pursuit..no big dreams like that in movies. So you see, nothing can overwhelmingly sway my zero percent permeability. I build and then burn things.. I live dimensionally in words and those who can feel it. That’s only as far as I can go.

Masochistic Exposition

I am swallowed in your stare

taken by the mastery of words.

Your immortality sinks in.

I forbid you to come near

 

What are you made of?

What did you make of me?

I’m bound in chains smothering my neck..

Oh I can’t breathe..

Nor can I speak..

 

I listened to your sensitive contention

followed indecipherable direction

I am lost at nowhere

Your passing ends in dark expedition.

 

What are you made of?

What did you make of me?

A hasty life without the beating

You pushed me back from where I started.

Left with nothing but glint of history

 

You must know now that sparing life is not worth giving life.

Take me, devour me, until the last memory holds you..

 

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