I'm a Zombie Filled with Love, part 3

Dear Kelly,
I know what you think, why am I writing you a letter on a paper when there are other faster, environmentally friendlier tools like e-mail, messenger and even text message? Just stop questioning it, and start reading.
Here it goes... Oh, and pardon my grammar and vocabulary. After all, I am only a C-graded student, and I never took English literature class.
Alright, you might think that we are in a mutual loving relationship because we kiss each other everyday, my mother loves you, my brother thinks you are the coolest girl. Here is a thing for you to remember...what my mother and brother do or feel did not represent my own feeling and thoughts. Just because I kiss you doesn't mean I miss you.
Kelly, I have to admit, you have everything I thought I would want in a person. The pretty eyes, the even prettier personality and beautiful body. When I first met you, I knew that I would want to love everything about you, and it sucks knowing that I don't even trust myself enough to actually believe that it's what I actually want.
Kelly, I could never tell you this because everytime I try to tell you, your eyes would look like they are ready to flood themselves, your soft, worried voice would stop my brain from giving instructions and leave me speechless instead.
Well the truth is.. I don't feel right. You remember the old cliche, "it's not you, it's me"? Well, that is exactly what I feel about you, about these intense series of 'seeing each other' we had. 
I feel ugly inside and out around you. I feel trapped, without you even purposely try to strangle me.
I am sorry to say, Kelly, but your greatness has waken up the insecurity and depression I've always had buried inside me. I am too coward to tell you these, I am a fucking wuss. 

So after a couple months of my painful journey of desperately pretending to love you, I decided to write this letter. I hope by doing this, you will have a better understanding about who I really am, and how difficult it is for me to breakup with you. I wish I could tell you what is wrong with you, as I always have been an expert of blaming others.
Unfortunately, there is NOTHING wrong with you and that's why it creeps the shit out of me. I like being right but sometimes I need you to make mistakes to make me feel right. 
With this letter, I am granting you full-time permission to come over to my house everytime you want. You can take my mother out for shopping, or have coffee with my brother, and in 2 or 3 years, maybe you can date him. Don't worry, he's in love with you, he's willing to go to those glamorous parties and he's a great guy. Two great people are meant for each other, and someone like you deserves a man who is able to love and appreciate, just like him.
So, Kelly, since I at least know myself well enough to know that if I break up with you the usual way people do, my cowardice won't ever leave me alone, let alone my monstrous fear of causing you pain; which is why I am going to do it this way. I just wish that your eyes won't experience tsunami, that they will stay sufficiently dry; and your soft, beautiful voice won't lose its art.
Oh, maybe one day you will nod and say, "okay Brian, I understand you now."
Please never ever change, Kelly.
You are God's masterpiece and I am just a misshaped creation of His.
Brian



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At least that's what I read on this piece of paper layin on the bed, at kelly's house, now I remember my name, 'Brian' 

Now I remember a few names of people that 'related' to me when I am still a human, where are they now? are they dead? or maybe, they have became one of us? zombies..

Whatever it is, I keep going deeper into downtown

To be continue...




~ (oleh @bomsQ)

I'm a Zombie Filled with Love, part 2

"I don't think you love me. You said I'm ugly and silly."
"Do you know that once I dated a supermodel?"

"…how is that supposed to make me feel better???"
"Please, let me finish. I dated her for a couple of months, and we went to all of those glamorous parties. It was fun."

"You better finish your story quickly. My insecurity just gained another 5 kilos, thanks to your stupid supermodel story."
"FYI, I don't give a damn about how much you and your insecurity weigh! Okay, so the supermodel was so good in bed…unlike you, who refused to have sex before marriage. Fucking lame."

"Why don't you just killl me? I just thought you should know.FYI!"
"She is very pretty my eyes get weepy everytime I see her."

".. If you do adore her.. If you hate me so much why are you still with me?"
"For God sake, Emily! Don't you get it? She is undeniably the hottest girl I've ever dated, but everytime I see her my vision gets blurry! Who the fuck would want his eyes to get blurry? Yes, we went to those glamorous parties but you know me... I can't stand being someone else in those parties, I'm sick of wearing masks everytime I'm with her..all I wanna do is to drink my beer and laugh my ass off. You Emily, you enable me to do all of that. You make me laugh, you don't care what shoes I wear, you don't care if I ride my bike rather than my car…"

"But you said you don't give a damn about me and my insecurity, and that I am lame.."
"It's true, I don't give a damn! I'm not here to feed your insecurity.. Do I look like a caretaker? You are lame for thinking that I am a jar of sugar, because some of the things I say might leave scar. Now listen carefully, I need you to tattoo the following confession on your mind. Emily, you are the only person that makes me feel understood and relevant. How can I stop my heart and head from whispering your name everytime your stupid smile makes me feel good?"

"..... I love you. I'm sorry for being so silly."
"You ARE silly, and you better stop apologizing. Repeated "sorrys" won't work unless they give me money. Now shut your mouth and let's have dinner!"

"Babe, say you love me. Please. For once."
"Damn girl! What a demanding girl you are! Alright, alright. I have a great interest and pleasure in you, an intense feeling of deep affection for you, a deep romantic attachment to someone. Damn, I really need to learn how not to sound cheesy. Okay, Emilyy, you are the girl of my reality that provides me enough faith to keep trying, breathing and smiling. You make me sleep well at night, knowing that there is one wonderful girl in this world that genuinely cares for me, no matter how rude and unromantic I am. There. Satisfied?"

- - - - - - 

"See this photo? You look beautiful when you are sleeping."
"Should I get drunk and then fall asleep everytime my confidence shrunk?"

"Of course not, stupid. I'm not suggesting you to become everyone's pretty face. I just want your prettiness for my own. I don't trust any other guys, except for your Father."

"..tell me you can't live without me.."
"Cut that crap! If your insecurity is a human being, I'd mutilate him until his blood begs for mercy. Emily, I thought we had this discussion last week? I feel ill whenever your insecurity asks for food. I hate these stupid questions!"

"You know me, why don't you at least try to put up with me? Just tell me that you can't live without me."
"Emily, read my lips and hear me closely.. Of course I CAN live without you. You are not food, water and beer, for God's sake. Stop flattering yourself. You are not THAT important!"

"Oh, okay..  Another kilo for my insecurity!"
"What? Oh, com'on Emily.. You want me to treat you like food, water and beer? To treat you like something to swallow and digest just to survive? Then I'll burp, throw you away over my ass and push 'flush'? I'll even wash my hands twice after. Is that how you want me to treat you?"

"I fucking hate you! I really do! Last week you made me feel loved. Now it feels like you just unnoticeably stab me directly into my fragile heart! I hate you! You hear me? I HATE you!"
"Yes! com'on! Punch me, punch me harder Emily!... Did I see tears there? God damn it, why do girls have to cry.. Come here Emily, you just need a little hug"

"...I just need to make sure that you won't leave me. I need to be sure that I won't wake up one day, realizing the absence of you."

"Giving you a free, all-access pass to enter my life has become both the best and worst decision I've ever made, Emily. I can't be sure of tomorrow, you can't, no one can. Here is an example, can you be sure of tomorrow's rain? No you can't. See? I don't fear the possibility of your absence, I can't force you to stay if you want to walk away. It's not my job. What I fear is...the possibility of you forcing me to leave, which I can assure you, unless you decide to become a slut and cheat on me, I won't want to walk away."

"..."
"What now? Okay, please listen, I'm trying, Emily. Since you have a huge crap of tolerance over my insensitivity, I guess I have to try harder to cope with your insecurity. I can assure you that I will never hurt you on purpose. I'm not going to cheat on you, because I can't even drive AND text, for God's sake. I'm not a multitasker. I'm working hard so that one day I'll be able take you to Fiji, or wherever ridiculous place you keep rambling about. I want to build a roof for both of us to live under, but I know there are still a lot of things I need to prove. So, please be patient. Be sure of me like I am sure of you."

"... I'm sorry..I promise I won't ask you all those stupid questions again."
"Shut up, Emily, I know you will. I'll be your weekly reminder, as long as you promise not to become a fucking pretender. Are we clear? Now wipe your tears, go find your bag and let's have sumtin to eat! I'm so hungry I can eat you.. Ha!"

- - - - -

"Em..ily." The word rolls off what's left of my tongue like honey.  A glimpse of sweet memories of our conversation. As I watch the crescent shining, looks like her stupid smile.

I take deep sighing as the memories just fading away from my head, I almost forget that my brain is dead. I need to eat another brain.. I have to..

The wind tonight never been this cold...

           To be Continue..

---Oleh: bomsQ

http://bomsq.wordpress.com/

I'm a Zombie Filled With Love : Part 1

 I'm a Zombie Filled With Love. Part 1

Hi, hello.. I am a zombie, and I suspect that all of you who reading this would've asked question how am I, a zombie, could wrote this? Err.. that, would be a hard question. What? Hey, deal with it, I'm a zombie remember? I can't even think! My brain is dead! For meat sake you guys, are you fool or what?  

Where were we? Oh, hi.. I'm a zombie, this is a glimpse of a few parts of my not-so-miserable life. I have a life back then, when I was still a human being. I did have a life, it's true, just trust me will ya? I'll tell you later about it.

 Living as a zombie is not so bad. I'm still learning to live with it though, since I know that I would live my whole life in eternity, the fact that I can't die, unless you shoot me in the head or chop my head off. I guess all of you know that better than I do. Oh com'on you've seen it on the zombie movies right? What? You haven't seen one? Well, poor you! You better watch at least one good zombie movie before you die. Trust me, it worth a brain.

I don't think I can properly introduce myself, I don't have a name anymore. Hardly any of us do. We forget them, like our names, our anniversaries, and PIN numbers. I think mine might have started with a "B" or with a "Q", err.. but I'm not sure. It's funny, because back when I was alive, I was always forgetting other people's names. I am finding that irony abounds in the zombie life, an ever-present punch line. But it's hard to smile when your lips have rotted off.

Before I became a zombie, I think I was a businessman or  young professional of some kind. I think I worked in one of those stifling office jobs in a highrise somewhere. The clothes clinging to the remains of my body are high-quality business-casual. I would probably look pretty sharp if my intestines weren't dragging at my feet. Ha.

We like to joke and speculate about our remaining outfits, since these final fashion choices are usually the only indication of who we were before we became no-one. Some people's are less obvious than mine. Jeans and a white t-shirt. Skirt and a tanktop. So we make random guesses.

You were a student. You were a barista. Ring any bells?

It usually doesn't.

Somehow I still remember a few memories from my human life back then. Especially after I ate someone's brain, yummy! It gives me fresh memories and quick flashback. I do enjoy it so much, that's why brain is my favorite part to eat.

No one I know has any specific memories. We recognize some things — buildings, cars, clothes — but context eludes us. We are here, we do what we do. We lack excellent diction, but we can communicate. We do, really. We grunt and groan, we make hand gestures, and sometimes a few words slip out. But I bet you humans wouldn't able to understand. Wanna bet? Huh?

There are a few hundred of us living in a wide plain of dust outside some large city. We don't need shelter or warmth, obviously. We stand around in the dust, and time passes. I think we've been here for a long time. Despite my dragging entrails, I am in decay's early stages, but there are a few elderly ones here who are little more than skeletons with clinging bits of muscle. Somehow, it still extends and contracts, and they keep moving. I have never seen any of us "die" of old age. Maybe we live forever, I don't know. I don't think much about the future anymore. That's something that's very different from before. When I was alive, the future was all I thought about. Obsessed about. Death has relaxed me.

But it makes me sad that we've forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I don't miss my own, but I mourn for everyone else's, because I want to love them, but I don't know who they are.

Today a group of us are going into town to find some food. How this expedition begins is one of us gets hungry and starts shuffling toward town, and a few others follow him. Focused thought is a rare occurrence with us, and we follow it when we see it. Otherwise we would just be standing around groaning. We do a lot of standing around groaning, and it's frustrating sometimes. Years pass this way. The flesh withers on our bones, and we stand around, waiting for it. I am curious how old I might be.

The city where the people live is not that far. We arrive around noon and start looking for living flesh. The new kind of hunger is a strange feeling. You don't feel it in your stomach -  of course not, since some of us don't even have stomachs. You feel it just...everywhere. You start to feel "more dead". I've watched some of my friends go back to being full-dead, when food is scarce. They just slow down, and stop, and become corpses again. I don't really understand it.

I guess the world has mostly ended, because the cities we wander through are decaying as fast as we are. Buildings are collapsed. Dead, rusted cars fill the streets. All glass everywhere is shattered. I don't know if there was a war, or a plague, or if it was just us. Maybe it was all three. I don't know. I don't think about things like that anymore.

In a cluster of broken down apartment buildings we find some people, and we eat them. Some of them have weapons, and as usual we lose some of our number, but we don't care. Why would we care? What's death, now?

Eating is not a pleasant business. I chew off a man's arm, and I hate this, it's disgusting. I hate his screams, because I don't like pain, I don't like to hurt things, but this is the world now, this is what we do. Of course, if I don't eat all of him, if I leave enough, he'll rise up and follow me back to our dusty field outside the city, and that might make me feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. It's hard to say what "friends" are anymore, but maybe that's close. If I don't eat all of him, if I leave enough...

 But of course I don't leave enough. I eat his brain, because that's the best part. That's the part that, when I swallow it, makes my head light up with feelings. Clear memories. For about three to ten seconds, depending on the person, I get to feel alive. I get traces of delicious meals, beautiful music, perfume, sunsets, orgasms, life. Then it fades, and I get up and stumble out of the city, still dead, but feeling a little less so. Feeling ok.

I don't know why we have to eat people. I don't understand what chewing off a man's neck accomplishes. We certainly don't digest the meat and absorb the nutrients. My stomach is a rotted bag of dried bile, useless. We don't digest, we just eat until the weight forces it out our ass holes, and then we eat more. It feels so useless, and yet it keeps us walking. I don't know why. None of us really understand why we are the way we are. We don't know if we're the result of some kind of global infection, or some ancient curse, or something even more senseless. We don't talk about it much. Existential debate is not a major part of zombie life. We are here, and we do things. We are simple. It's nice sometimes.

Outside the city again, back with the others in the dust field, I start walking in a circle for no reason. I plant one foot in the dirt and pivot on it, around and around, kicking up clouds of dust. Before, when I was alive, I could never have done this. I remember stress. I remember bills and deadlines, Asset Retention Reports. I remember being so occupied, so always, everywhere, all the time occupied. Now I'm just standing in a wide-open field of dust, walking in a circle. The world has been distilled. Being dead is easy. Trust me it is.

To be Continue...

---Oleh: bomsQ


http://bomsq.wordpress.com/