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I mean, literally, yesterday, I helped burying my grandpa’s soulless body in to his last worldly house; pouring down the brown soil that endorsed our lives, and our ancestors, since only God knows when, in to the grave.

My grandpa passed away Friday night, and yesterday, we held his funeral.

He’s 81 years old, some of the family member said. So old and sick in the past few months. I visited him a couple of days before when the family said that his health had dropped down badly. I remembered the last time I held his hand, and he smiled at me. I wondered if he still recognizes me. My mom kept telling him that I am his grandson, and he just nodded and smiled.Continue Reading

I wrote this first sentence with a fast heartbeat as I just got in to a fight– a war, if I put it in to perspective– with two flying cockroaches in my room. I killed one of them, and one other is still hiding somewhere between the cupboard. I just can’t sleep knowing he’s still alive and creeping slowly, waiting for me to fall asleep when he can finally ambush me with his counter-attack grossness; avenging his dead friend’s– or maybe his lovers– wrecked body in a suicidal terrorist mission.

I wrecked the body using an electric racket, disabling his capability to fly, and then smashed it with a broom stick. I also used my chemical weapon, baygon, to force them out of their shady little hiding place, so I can face them directly on the open battlefield. It was an epic adrenaline rush. And on top of that, it is not over, yet.Continue Reading