I find myself sleepless again tonight.
A few things in mind, research mostly, some other unimportant things and this one last matter that currently bothers my mind at best. Imagine, of all the most exquisite things that I could have cared for, this one thing stays in my mind like nobody's business. By far it is the most unimportant thing, but now it suddenly wins the highest priority in which I would have given by right a vast amount of pong. Now pong here refers to the popular English word of fuck, in which |I would want to reduce the usage of it in my blog, therefore I replace the word with pong.
So this was what the pong happened to me.
* * *
Have you ever been stunned by the beauty of a lady?
I have. Like all the bloody time.
But today was different. You see, I have been quite active in Twitter lately, main reason was to fill my unoccupied time, other than to amplify my doubtful awesomeness and to create a wide network of awesome men and women (although women win the proportion by 20 women for every man in my Twitter list). Among the people in my Twitter list was this one quite, no, good looking lady whom, God forgive me for this, I liked to look at her face. Like almost every damn day I visited her just to click on her profile picture which she used to change in every 2 days or so.
But we never tweet each other at all.
I mean, come on, look at her. She's all that. The kind of woman that most men will fight for. Look at the way she smiles and the way she gives that extraordinary looks. Yes, true, I have confidence and all that, and as long as I follow the rules of engagement and the art of attraction pretty neatly, I could have topped all those clueless men in no time, at least to the best fives, but of course in me I had doubts, and these doubts prevented me from saying hi to her, not even once. Even she too never dropped a tweet to me, and that was as far as the relationship went. Pure electronics. But then sometime a week or two back, I noticed that her account suddenly disappeared.
And I was like, "what the pong?"
Never really did give a damn at first, my days went by smoothly. I made new friends in Twitter, recounted the old ones, and had wonderful times with them all. But in my mind I still thought about her. I wondered what happened; must be ponged up enough to cause her to disengage from her daily Twitter chore. But then again, however I see it, it was still my loss for not being able to establish a direct contact with her when she was around. Talking about some bitter regrets. If only I said hi to her. How I wish if she reappears just so that I can say hi to her or something. If she reappears again, I said to myself, I am so going to say hi to her to make up for my regretful past. And you know what? Today she did.
She reappeared right in my direct messaging box.
* * *
"You've gotta help me."
You see, help is a strong word, darling. Before I am able to help you, I would want you to know that I require help myself, especially in dealing with my shaking legs and sweaty palms from this very surprising course of event. A miracle! Or maybe not. I don't know. But what I know was that she came right to me and asked for help, in which, "yes ma'am first officer Jacksparrow right at your service, ma'am."
Long story short, she's having some relationship problems. And she was expecting that I would be able to give her some advises. At first I was like, "mean woman, you have hurt me enough, GTFO" but of course, being a completely wet sponge when it comes to damsels in distress without taking account of my own frustrations, I decided to help her anyway, although I knew that I was going to get a punch right in the stomach again soon enough. Since Twitter only allow 140 characters in every reply, and I am the kind of guy who will write a thesis just to tell someone to close the door for me, I found it very difficult to communicate with her. So I asked for her number, and she gave it to me. But when I called her, she never picked it up.
I mean, what the pong la? Fine then If she didn't want to pick up the phone. Good luck with the ponging problem then, and that ponging guy, whoever the pong he was.
It was not until a few minutes following that last call to her that I received a call from someone who introduced herself to me as one of the gorgeous lady's friend. Pissed off, I answered her with a bit of resistance and somewhat disappointment. And what she told me next stunned me so badly that I had to hold my forehead in my right arm while resting it on the desk. I only hold my head in my hand like that in only three occasions: 1) while listening to endless whining from the office, 2) while listening to my mom's 1,001 advises in only a 5-minute session, and when I receive a call saying that someone just died. So if I did it this time, then it must be ponging important and shocking enough.
"She didn't answer your call because she can't hear you," the friend said. She had a pretty voice.
"Can't hear?" Wait, what?
"Nor talk. She's deaf and mute."
And so it hit me.
* * *
You are still so beautiful.
I'm sorry I didn't know. But I do now, and I will do whatever it takes to make you happy again. Just so that I can come by your Twitter and stalk on your profile picture again. Please be happy. You can't hear me, and you can't reply me either, but for sure both of us can write and read.
So I did this for you:
But if that doesn't cheer you up still, I hope this will:
So yeah, I'd hope that things will be fine for you soon. I wish you all the best and hope that my advises work for you. Hope that you'll smile again. I missed that smiles. Thank you for being awesome all these whiles. And I want you to stay that way. Not for just a moment but for every damn day.
Smile for me, smile for me, and I'll smile with you.
p/s: pretty as hell, doesn't nag, doesn't need to hear my ramblings. The perfect one? Pong me sideways.