blue flames emerge from the stove. my wife, she gets ready to make me some spaghetti.
i don't like spaghetti.
beside the stove, she gets ready some tomatoes and other shit, to make the sauce.
i don't like spaghetti. i don't like especially the sauce u put on it.
my wife, she makes it especially sour. food that is meant to fill your stomach isn't meant to be sweet, nor sour. but i don't bother telling her.
i don't like to complain about things.
my wife, she just goes ahead and does things as she pleases. its not as bad as it sounds. she used to let our daughter learn ballet, and our son learn violin. she buys contemporary furniture from ikea for our home. she wakes us up to go to church every sunday morning. my mother praises her and says i am lucky to have such a nice wife.
i don't like my mother. and i'd rather my son learn some proper fine art or design than violin.
we sit down to watch some tv, or my wife would rent some videos for our family to watch. we'd watch whatever comes on during prime time, and that's the timing when there'll be the trashiest shows. recently they like to include retards in the series. sometimes my wife even discusses with my mother about the trashy shows.
i don't like my mother because she teaches me what she learns from the tv. i don't like my wife watching the tv because she might grow old to become like my mother.
when i am lucky, i would have some work to do, and get to not watch tv.
my son and daughter, i don't even know if they do anything for fun. my daughter, she would sometimes go out to have lunch with her classmates after school. she is seventeen years old. on weekends she might go shopping with my wife. my son, he would play games on the computer for a few hours on some days. he is twenty two years old. i am not sure if he has ever gotten laid before.
i don't like my children very much. but i hope they are not as uncool as i think they are.
my wife, she still keeps that only bouquet of flowers i bought for her when we were dating. which i bought because she kept asking why didn't i buy her flowers. because we were still studying, and i had limited money. because she would want to eat some not-very-nice tom yam noodles everyday, which probably costs the same as some fast food. because they happen to be in the central district.
i didn't really have anything against her at that time. i did wanted to buy her some flowers and probably a little present on some special occasion. a quick check on the calendar showed that the next special occasion would be christmas, and it was only july.
i don't really like to rush things.
of course, she couldn't wait, and would get moody whenever she saw some girl holding on to some flowers which her boyfriend had given. even if they were chrysanthemums. when i see other people's flowers, i thought theirs would be nothing compared to what i had in mind. then girls, as we all know, tend to compare stuff.
i don't like girls. maybe im gay.
so then she gets all depressed, and asks me what she means to me, and the like.
i don't like it when she does that. so on out next outing, i bought her a modest bouquet of six roses. she was elated.
my wife, she carefully places the spaghetti in front of me. she tells me to eat, then she fetches a drink for me. some prune juice. my wife, she buys only fruit juices for us, and they are all full of vitamins.
i don't like prune juice. i don't like vitamins. they just keep you alive longer to suffer.
my wife says she loves me.
i think of the bouquet of flowers. they were real, and it's been years. they are still intact, but dried. normal flowers would have fallen apart five years ago.
i think of the time when we broke up. she cried and said how i was just playing her, then she'd cut herself and destroy everything i gave her. i hung up the phone.
then sometime later when i went over to her place to collect my stuff, she showed me the bouquet of flowers i gave her. they were still bright red, and still had some of the smell.
i don't like the smell. i can still smell it now.
she said that it was amazing they were still alive, after so many weeks. just like how she couldn't forget me, after so many weeks. it must have represented something. since the flowers was from me, it could mean i hadn't forgotten her too. it's a sign.
screw signs.
then she hugged me and cried, and i cried too. after that we were back together, till now.
i finished up the spaghetti and prune juice i didn't liked, then we went to watch some tv.
what my wife doesn't know, the truth is i didn't cry because of her.
how some things that have absolutely nothing to do with you, could make you collapse in tears. then you have no reaction when the person you are supposed to love is cutting her arm with a razor.
when she cried and threw things around, i was picking up those which i still wanted to keep. then she said she was going to break up with me. while i was leaving she said she would kill herself, then proceeded to slice her arm. mind you, its not her wrists, but her arm.
my wife, she gave me a goodnight kiss before she slept. there aren't even any scars on her arm, from when she said she cut herself so much she felt faint.
i hate my wife. mind you, its not "don't like", but its "hate".
