Why Do Mosquitoes Love Me? A Rant on Blood Loss & Sleepless Nights (Life Lately)

 

Mosquitoes, Periods, and the War Against My Sanity

Life lately? Annoying. Agonizing. Pure chaos. And I blame three things: mosquitoes, periods, and the unbearable heat.

It’s that time of the month when my body decides to drain itself, and as if losing blood naturally wasn’t enough, these little flying vampires have taken it upon themselves to suck the remaining drops out of me.

A Personal Blood Donation Drive (Against My Will)

I mean, seriously. Why me? What is so special about my blood that mosquitoes are choosing me over the thousands of other humans in this world? I’ve tried everything—Neem oil, cloves with lemon, camphor, incense, mosquito-repellent sprays, those plug-in vaporizers, and even manually swatting them like a crazy person. Nothing works.

And let’s talk about that infuriating sound. That high-pitched, sleep-ruining, sanity-shattering “whhhhzzzhzhzhzhhhhh” right near my ears. Why do they have to announce their arrival? Just bite and leave! But no, they need to make sure I hear them, wake up, slap the air like a lunatic, and then get bitten anyway.

The Betrayal of the Mosquito Net

You’d think a mosquito net would save me, right? Wrong. These creatures have a PhD in infiltration. No matter how securely I tuck myself in, one or two elite warriors always find their way inside. And then the real horror begins. Ever tried trapping a mosquito inside a net with you? It’s a full-blown hostage situation, except I’m the one being tortured.

I can’t even write at night anymore. Nighttime is when my mind takes deep dives into thoughts, creativity flows, and words come alive. But no. Now, every time I try to focus, some annoying mosquito squad decides it’s dinner time. They bite me, make me itch, and in return, they sing me their horrible lullabies. I didn’t sign up for this kind of soundtrack!

Mosquito Negotiations: A Lost Cause

If only I could talk to mosquitoes, my life would be so much easier:

Me: “Mr. Mosquito, please spare me tonight. I’m already losing blood naturally, you don’t need to contribute to the process.” Mosquito: “Sorry, lady, I have a family to feed.”

Like, seriously?! I wish it worked that way. But no. They don’t negotiate, they don’t care. They take, they itch, and they leave. Rude.

Oh, And Let’s Not Forget the Heat!

To add insult to injury, let’s talk about the heatwave. 37°C at noon, 26-27°C at night. It’s like nature itself has decided to turn life into a challenge. The sun blazes all day, cooking everything alive, and at night, it’s just humid enough to make sure I stay hot, sweaty, and mosquito-friendly.

And I know what you’re thinking: “Just use a fan or AC.” Oh, I do. But guess what? Mosquitoes are now fan-resistant. These little demons fly against the wind like they’re in some action movie. Nothing stops them.

Periods, Pain, and Cravings (On Top of It All)

As if blood loss and mosquito terrorism weren’t enough, let’s not forget my dear old friend, period cramps. They come knocking on my uterus like an earthquake, making sure I stay in bed, curled up, questioning my existence. And the cravings? Through the roof.

One moment, I’m dying for chocolate. The next, I need spicy chips. Then suddenly, I want to eat a full meal even though I’m not hungry. But do I even have the energy to get up and satisfy them? No, because the mosquitoes have drained my last bit of willpower.

Oh, and let’s not forget the mood swings. One minute, I’m ready to cry over a sad Instagram reel; the next, I’m cursing the mosquitoes for simply existing. It’s a rollercoaster I never signed up for.

A New Plan: Writing at Noon

Since nights are now mosquito-infested nightmares, I’ve officially shifted my writing schedule to noon. Yes, in the scorching heat. Because at least then, mosquitoes are slightly less annoying.

Picture this: It’s 37°C, I’m sweating, my laptop keyboard is hot to the touch, and I’m typing aggressively about how much I hate mosquitoes. Peak productivity.

So see you all at noon—when I’ll be roasting under the sun, annoyed, but at least not getting bitten alive.

This Too Shall Pass… Right?

I keep telling myself, this will pass. The heat will go, the mosquitoes will disappear (hopefully into hell where they belong), and my periods will end for the month. Happy days will come again, or maybe I’ll just drag them into existence.

But for now? Let me just scream into the void and continue my unwanted blood donation drive.

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Like, I’m not saying I’m the only one who’s feeling overwhelmed or the only one getting mosquito bites, but still, guys… WHY?! Why does it feel like they have a personal vendetta against me?

Tell me, have mosquitoes made your life miserable too? Or is it just me who’s their personal buffet? Drop your war stories in the comments because I know I’m not alone in this battle!

Why We Write: A Heartfelt Poem on the Beauty of Expression

 

Ink of the Infinite

I’ve been thinking lately—
how the world keeps spinning,
if it ever lands,
or if it just drifts endlessly,
tangled in the murmurs of forgotten poets,
lost between the lines we never dared to write.

I don’t know, I don’t know—
but I let my ink pour like an open wound,
spilling stories the universe left unfinished,
stories buried in the silence of empty hands.

Once, everything was fine.
We were fine.
Before time turned into a river we couldn’t swim across,
before we learned that even dreams have shadows,
before we realized that some pages
never get their ending,
just a slow, aching fade.

But still, we write.

We carve our names onto the edges of eternity,
as if the ink could make us immortal,
as if words could turn back the clocks
and unbreak what was shattered
before we knew how to hold it.

We write because silence feels heavier
than the weight of an unfinished sentence.
Because sometimes,
the only way to speak
is through ink that bleeds
but never dies.

And yet,
who are we, if not restless echoes?
Who are we, if not stories wrapped in flesh,
burning to be read before the night swallows us whole?

We are the scribes of the forgotten,
the dreamers of the unseen.
Our words dance in the space between stars,
our thoughts unravel in the hush of midnight,
where ink turns to constellations
and paper feels like the fabric of fate itself.

We run—oh, we run—
along the ridges of destiny,
where every period is a pause, never an end,
where every comma is a breath,
pulling us closer to something unnamed
but deeply felt.

We write in the language of the wind,
in the dialect of the rain,
in the whispers of souls who never found their voices.
We turn pain into poetry,
longing into letters,
love into lines that outlive the bodies that wrote them.

Because it’s true—
our work will pay off, one day.
One day, when our voices
turn into constellations,
when our ink seeps into the bones of the earth,
when the world finally hears
the whispers we’ve left behind.

But until then,
we let the ink flow,
letting it spill like a river
that refuses to dry,
letting it fill the empty spaces
where words once feared to tread.

All we need is patience,
patience folded into recklessness,
a paradox woven in midnight ink,
spilled over the paper of the unseen.

Na na na na na,
the hum of unwritten legacies,
Na na na na na,
the heartbeat of stories waiting to be told.

Because the ink never dries,
the story never truly ends,
and we—
we are the ones
who write the light into the dark.

My Soul Wears You: The Eternal Tattoo of Love

 ✨ Tattoos of You Etched Into My Soul ✨

The first time I saw you,
The world exhaled—
Soft and slow,
Like it had been holding its breath
For centuries,
Waiting for this moment.
For us.

And there you were.
Not just standing,
Not just existing,
But happening to me.
Crashing into my being
Like the tide into an unyielding shore,
Wearing me down
Until I was only yours.

Your eyes—
God, your eyes.
They were more than just eyes.
They were entire lifetimes,
Ancient and endless,
As if they had witnessed
Every love story ever told
And still dared
To write a new one in me.
They held every answer
I didn’t know I was seeking.
And in that instant,
The world fell silent.
No sound.
No light.
No time.
Just your eyes.
Just us.

And in that brief eternity,
I was unmade.
You unraveled me
Without ever laying a hand on me.
You didn’t need to.
Your gaze alone
Was a sculptor’s touch,
Carving into me,
Etching your name
Into the stone of my soul.
Every glance—
A chisel against my heart.
Every smile—
A signature I would never erase.

You didn’t touch my skin,
But you painted your face
Onto the canvas of my soul.
Brushed your essence
Into my veins.
Tattooed yourself
Onto the back of my eyelids,
So even in my sleep,
I see you.
Even when I close my eyes,
You are there.
Like ink that won’t wash away.
Like the burn of a flame
That never dims.

And I let you in,
Oh, how I let you in.
I gave you the keys
To the chambers
I had locked for so long.
You walked in
And made a home in my hollows.
You filled every crack,
Every empty space
I didn’t know was there.
You touched me
Where no hands could reach.
You branded me
Without ever leaving a scar.
And somehow,
I was yours.
Before I even knew I was.

You don’t know, do you?
How your voice
Became the song
My soul hums in the silence.
How your laughter
Left its footprints
On the walls of my heart.
How your presence
Became the rhythm
Of my every breath.
You didn’t know
That with every word you spoke,
You were tattooing your name
Into my bones.
And now,
Even when you are not here,
You still are.

You linger.
In the spaces between my ribs,
In the pauses between my thoughts,
In the breaths I hold
When I miss you.
You linger.
Like the scent of rain
On sun-warmed soil.
Like a haunting
Too beautiful
To be feared.
You linger.
Softly.
Always.

You are in my blood,
Flowing through my veins
Like you belong there.
You are in my marrow,
Rooted in the very essence of me.
Even if I were to shed my skin,
I would still wear you.
Even if I were reborn,
I would still carry your name
In the hidden folds of my spirit.
You are not just in my heart.
You are my heart.
Beating.
Yearning.
Living for you.

And even if you walked away—
If the world pulled you from me,
You wouldn’t be gone.
You couldn’t be.
Because I would still carry you
In the spaces
No one else can see.
In the parts of me
That cannot be touched
By time
Or distance
Or loss.
You are inked
Into my infinity.

And if the world screamed,
“Let them go!”
I would laugh softly
And close my eyes,
Because I know the truth:
You are already inside me.
No god, no fate, no force
Could tear you out.
I would have to unwrite myself,
Erase my own essence,
To erase you.
And I could never.
Not in this lifetime.
Not in eternity.

I would choose you again—
Over and over—
In every timeline,
In every universe.
I would trace my fingertips
Over the places
Where your memory still lingers.
I would run my hands
Over the ghost of you
Until you felt real again.
Because I would rather hold
The shadow of you
Than touch the sun itself.

And if I am reborn
A thousand times,
I will find you
In every life.
In every form.
Even if I have to crawl
Through lifetimes of sorrow
To reach you.
Even if the heavens split apart
And the stars fall like rain,
I will still be yours.
And you—
You won’t even need to speak,
Because I will know you
By the ink of your soul
Still etched into mine.

You are the ink
On my spirit’s skin,
The calligraphy of my eternity.
The poetry
My soul will recite
Long after my bones
Turn to dust.
You are the tattoo of you
That even death
Cannot wash away.
You are my forever.
My soul’s most sacred mark.
My eternal masterpiece.
And even if the world burns,
You will still be
The most beautiful thing
I ever wore
On my soul.
Forever.
And ever.
And ever.

When the World Says No: Will You Still Fight for Your Love?

 “A Love That Fights: The Kind of Forever I Want”

Hey, beautiful souls.
I’m Bandana, and today I want to share something that has been weighing on my heart—a raw, unfiltered reflection on love. Not the fleeting kind, not the temporary spark that fizzles out when the winds of life blow hard. No, I want to talk about the love that stays. The love that fights. The love that chooses you, every single day, even when the world makes it difficult.

You see, love is not meant to be a passing phase. It is not something you dabble in for a few months or years, only to walk away when it no longer feels convenient. It is not a hobby you pick up when you’re lonely, only to toss it aside when something else catches your eye. No, love—real love—is an eternal flame. It doesn’t flicker with every breeze or snuff out with the first storm. It roars. It defies the wind. It fights through the rain. It stays.

And that’s the kind of love I want.
Not a love that bends when the world pushes.
Not a love that hesitates when circumstances get tough.
Not a love that says, “Let’s see where this goes,” only to leave when the road gets rocky.
No.
I want a love that says, “No matter what, I will stay. I will fight. I will build a future with you—even when the world says we can’t.”

Because what is the point of love, if not to be together?
Why invest your time, your soul, and your dreams into someone, only to let it all slip away when life throws its inevitable challenges?
What’s the point of calling someone your everything, only to leave them with nothing when the waves get high?

No.
I refuse to accept a love that is temporary.
I refuse to settle for a relationship that exists only when the sun is shining.
I want a love that holds on when the rain pours.
I want a love that clings to me even when the winds howl and the earth shakes beneath us.
I want a love that doesn’t run.
Because if you’re not going to fight for me—if you’re not going to fight for us—then why am I standing here, pouring my soul into this?

I want someone who will fight, even when their hands are bleeding.
Someone who will hold on, even when the world tells them to let go.
Someone who will look into my eyes and say, “No matter how hard this gets, no matter how many voices rise against us—I will never let you go.”

Because that’s what love is.
It’s not about convenience.
It’s about conviction.
It’s about choosing each other, again and again, even when it’s difficult.
Even when it’s messy.
Even when it hurts.
Because love is not meant to be fragile—it’s meant to be unyielding.

I don’t want a love that shatters under pressure.
I want a love that becomes stronger with every storm.
I want a partner who stands tall beside me, even when the winds howl in our faces.
Someone who holds my hand tighter when the world tries to pull us apart.
Someone who stands up and says, “I will fight for you—even if I have to fight the whole world.”

Because if you’re not willing to fight for me—
If you can’t look me in the eyes and say, “I will hold you through every storm,”—
Then what is the point of this love?
If you’re not ready to face the battles with me, then why are you holding my hand?
If you’re not willing to choose me, even when it’s difficult, then why am I choosing you?

I don’t want easy love.
I want real love.
I want the kind of love that says, “I’m not afraid of the darkness.”
I want the kind of love that says, “I’m not leaving—even when the world tells me to.”
I want the kind of love that stands tall, even when the ground beneath it crumbles.
Because if you can’t stand by me when the earth shakes, then you don’t deserve to hold me when the sun shines.

I want a partner who doesn’t just make promises—they keep them.
I want someone who doesn’t just whisper sweet nothings—they build a life with me.
I want someone who doesn’t just say, “I love you”—they show it, every single day.
Through their actions.
Through their devotion.
Through their unwavering presence.
Because words are easy.
But love—real love—is proven in the moments when it is hardest to stay.

I want a love that survives the storm.
No.
I want a love that thrives in the storm.
Because true love isn’t fragile.
It is fierce.
It is unbreakable.
It is relentless.
It says, “No matter how far the world tries to push us apart, I will always find my way back to you.”

And that’s the only kind of love I will accept.
Not one that crumbles at the first challenge.
Not one that cowers when the world disapproves.
But one that roars louder than the storms.
One that defies the odds.
One that says, “I will fight for you. I will fight with you. I will fight until my last breath—to be with you.”

Because if you’re not willing to fight for us—then you are not worthy of us.
If you are not willing to stand by me when the world says, “No,”
Then you don’t deserve me when the world says, “Yes.”

I want a partner who is my anchor, not my escape.
Someone who grounds me when the winds try to carry me away.
Someone who holds me steady when the waves try to drown me.
Someone who stands beside me and says, “You are worth it. You are always worth it.”

I want a love that doesn’t waver.
A love that doesn’t say, “I will try.”
But instead says, “I will. No matter what.”
A love that doesn’t run when the fire gets hot.
But instead says, “I will walk through the flames with you.”
Because love—true love—is about standing tall in the fire.
It’s about being consumed by it, and coming out stronger.
Together.

I want a love that doesn’t ask, “Will we make it?”
But instead declares, “We will make it.”
A love that doesn’t question, “Are we strong enough?”
But instead roars, “We are strong enough.”
Because true love doesn’t need certainty.
It creates it.

So, my love—
If you are not ready to fight for me, then don’t ask me to fight for you.
If you are not ready to stand in the fire with me, then don’t ask me to hold your hand.
Because I want a love that endures.
A love that battles.
A love that wins.

Because when I love—I love with my entire being.
And I deserve nothing less in return.

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💙 So, if you’re reading this—fight for love.
Fight when it’s hard.
Fight when it hurts.
Fight when the world says you shouldn’t.
Because the love that is worth having—is the love that is worth fighting for.
And I promise you—if you have the courage to fight for it, you will never lose it.
Because true love never lets go.
Never. 💙