10.21.2011 | 01:55

She Lives Next Door

I am suffering from a medically unknown disease which binds the tongue when the mind is clouded with too much information. One doctor actually diagnosed me with dyslexia and after a keen research on this topic, was able to find several details about the disease. I do not suffer from this dyslexia thing.

"No, you can't just tell me a certain illness when I'm paying you the right amount here. Enough of this gambol," I said and without thinking twice, slammed the door to his office on my way out. The patients outside his clinic were terrified.

Unhappy with one doctor's resolution that I'm dumb (yes, that is how his diagnosis sounds to me), I sought the help of another person, this time, a linguist. She lives next door.

Warmly lighted and good-smelling, her house is. She accepts visitors by day and I felt deeply welcome with her bright yellow clothes and lavender wafting in the atmosphere. Her voice was soothing, every word she's saying calms me down like a hypnotic spell. Such a fancy.

"Talk," she convinced me, "about this picture that I'm holding." She gestured her fingers around the frame. While she was doing so, the trappings of her bracelet were moving back and forth. I swear to God I was distracted with the movement of her hands, and of the dangling bits in her accessory, that I cannot think of another way to verbalize my interpretation.

Closing my eyes was the best way to avoid seeing the cyclical drifting. I restructured the picture on my mind and tried imputing one of the millions of adjectives that can be located in a dictionary. However, for a trice the forces of nature might have collaborated to pull away the alphabet from my neurons and prevented me from pronouncing a single thread of my cerebration. I felt helpless and inutile.

Just when I thought I was doomed, bound for another judgment, I felt a warm mouth on my nape, to my ears, then, to my lips. I opened my eyes and kissed her. The feeling was insurmountable. We made out in her living room.

Three hours of pleasure passed, we cleaned ourselves and went back to business as if nothing ever happened. Words -- a plethora of verbal syntaxes -- started materializing in the form of my voice. At last, I'm able to speak my mind!

"'suppose all you needed was some good loosening up. Good job," she quipped.

My life was never the same from that day on. We would always have sessions either on her house or in my pad, but she leaves every weekend for some outdoor activity.

Before she left for the second weekend since we knew each other, I asked for her name.

Kayla. She beamed and winked at me with her heavenly features. I could only miss her so much, and wish that it was Monday again.

to be restructured
Post Script: I doesn't equate me. =)


  1. So you weren't dyslexic, just horny?

  2. Nyl: Not at all! I mean, not dyslexic, not horny. Its like finding something in the advent of expecting something else.

  3. this is different,, i wonder if i could also get a neighbor like that and oh, not a she.. LOL!!

  4. ceiboh: hahah. there is a post script though, and this is nothing but a diversion form my usual posts. thanks for finding time to get here, kiko! mwah

    Mr. Hush: nganong nalibog man ka?

  5. naa paka diay identity crisis or nag exprimento lang ka for now?

  6. biga kuya green!!!!hahaha :P


  7. ganahan lagi ko sa moral of the story!

  8. really nice story.. welcome back!

  9. Mr. Hush: Wala jud na nahitabo. Naglain ra ko ug istorya nga isuwat maong ingon ana. :D

    indiboi: Hey, hey! Read my email? Biga gyud ko. Mura man gud ug ako ang naa sa story. Pero dili gyud na ako.

    drew: Haha, naa pa man nay next, tan-awa na lang. :D

    nate: tnx po.

  10. ako naman ngayon ang dinededma mo? :c

  11. ahhhh!! so di diay na ikaw. atot oi. you got me there. hahaha

  12. Oi you're back! Kumusta ka naman Ms Bermuda Triangle

  13. Mr. Hush: Exactly! haha, arte ra gud. LOL

    bien: Ui! mishu mwah diba uuwi ka sa grad ko? lolz ayun okay nmn, mlpit nko magmartsa! hahah

  14. Xian: Salamat paps! :D miss na rin kita, bigtime!


so... what's your take on it?

Unquote Joe

Most of the time, tact is not for the intelligent. It takes a great deal of 'being there' to realize that something else is going on.
Albeit Greatness speaks of an effort-filled voyage, the shortest trail en route is the way down.

The Tweet-ter

Follow me @green_breaker


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