Yo, what's up Wattpad fam? Let me spill the tea on my crazy life in "His Possession." So, I just got back from a wild vacation in Brazil, and guess what? I came home to my two lovely assassin friends - Carla and Veronica. Now, Carla, she's a total p...
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As I stumbled into my cozy apartment, my body practically begging for a horizontal position, my mind refused to shut down. It seemed like my thoughts had decided to throw a late-night party of their own, and I was the unwilling guest of honor.
I plopped down on the couch, my energy level currently hovering around that of a sloth in a hammock. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the only spinning I wanted now was in my dreams. But no, my thoughts had different plans. They decided to stage an impromptu rom-com right inside my head.
"So, Adriana," my imaginary Rom-Com Director said in my mind, "you just had a smoldering kiss with your brooding, handsome co-star, Luca. What are you going to do?"
I groaned, because if I could choose, I'd rather be the star of a witty comedy, not a romantic drama. I mean, seriously, who needed these complicated feelings? Just give me a laugh track and a bag of popcorn!
But the Rom-Com Director had other ideas. "Cue the internal monologue," he said. "Adriana, you must confront your feelings! It's time for an epic revelation."
My internal monologue, played by an imaginary version of me, had a witty retort. "Listen, Rom-Com Director, I know you're trying to spice up my life, but can we save the dramatic revelations for a better time? I've got sleep to catch up on!"
I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Who would have thought that my life would turn into a cliché rom-com? It was as if reality had become an unexpected punchline, and I was the one trying to keep up with the joke.
So, as I finally gave in to my exhaustion, I couldn't help but sigh and mutter to myself, "Well, Rom-Com Director, you win this round. But tomorrow, I'm coming back with a script of my own." With that, I drifted off to sleep, ready to face whatever crazy plot twist life had in store for me next.
The next morning, I woke up with the determination to put on a fabulous outfit. I rummaged through my closet, trying on outfit after outfit, but none of them seemed to cooperate. My pants were too tight, my shirt was too baggy, and my dresses just didn't want to zip up.
As I let out a sigh of frustration, I thought to myself, "Why do I even have a closet full of clothes if they're all going to rebel against me?" It was as if my wardrobe had formed an alliance, and they were staging a full-blown fashion coup.
Finally, after a wrestling match with a particularly stubborn dress, I managed to get dressed. My hair was next on my list, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. Strands were refusing to stay in place, and no amount of hair products could convince them to behave.
I looked in the mirror and muttered, "Seriously, hair, can we just have a peaceful coexistence today?" But my hair had other plans, as it continued to defy gravity and logic.
I moved on to my makeup, hoping for a small victory in my morning routine. However, my mascara decided to play a little game of "poke the eye," leaving me with tears streaming down my face. I screamed out in frustration, which I affectionately called #Womanrage.
