Browse Tag by spilled ink
365, Prose, Writings

Better Days

You always held on to him, long enough to hurt not only your arm but also your heart. It’s a pain, an ache, that you kept on bearing and enduring until such time that the pain turned into numbness. The numbness made you lose your grip to him a little bit, and suddenly this made you feel a little bit better. So you try to loosen your grip to him a little bit more, and more, and with every space you create, and every distance you make, your heart feels a little bit lighter, a little bit better, until such time you realize that you’re actually a little bit more happier now.

– – –

// I‘m probably going back to writing again. Yey! ☺️ I think I regained most of my lost energies. 😁 I wish writing does not exhaust me this much. 😭 

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

The After

Sometimes, things happen. Unexpected ones. And it changes your life in an instant. All your prayers, all your problems, and all the things that once bothered you before, all the things that you thought were unsolvable just dissolve and vanish away in an instant like a smoke. You can’t even pinpoint when and where it all happen, or the specific moment or event that marks the change. But for some reason, you know without a doubt that your now standing on the after of before.

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365, Prose, Writings

This is how I’d fallen out of love of him

This is how I’d fallen out of love of him:

I didn’t. It just that one day I woke up, and I just.. I just didn’t feel anything for him. Not love, not like, not hate, nor anger, not even sadness or disappointment, just.. nothing. Like my heart entered a sudden oblivion, and it just forgot. It forgot to remember to care for him or to think of him, and in a blink of an eye, everything about him, every feelings I associated with him is erased, and he didn’t matter anymore. Like he never really mattered at all.

And I’m okay with it. I mean, it’s a lot like looking at a blank grey canvas, what do you suppose to feel about it? Nothing, right? Nothing and just okay.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #33

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365, Hushed Series (custom pieces), Prose, Writings

Excuses, excuses

i. He keeps on giving me excuses of why we couldn’t be together, and I keep on giving excuses for his excuses, because I believe we have a connection, and ours is not like any other.

ii. I know he’s the bad boy kind of guy, and I should probably stay away from him, but I keep on forgetting it whenever we were together, whenever we would go out on a ride and sing in the car,

iii. and for a moment, his laughter would drown out all my doubts and all my worries for our future.

iv. He told me I’m not like any other, that he never felt this way for anyone else before,

v. But he also never told me that he has someone else now, a new girl in his life that he’s been hiding away from me,

vi. And all those excuses he keeps on giving me, he’s willing to throw those all out for his someone new,

vii. and I hate that I don’t hate him,

viii. and I shouldn’t love him, but I do,

ix. and I know I should try to move on, but it’s hard.

x. And when I think I’m finally over him, I would walk right into him, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with him, all over again.

I try to hate him, but I can’t. 

– – –

// I’m so sorry to the one who requested for this, it took so long. Writing other people’s stories are my weakness. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to bring justice to their feelings and stories and pains, that’s why I keep on putting this off on my writing list. I used most of your words so it would still feels true for you.

// if you would like a custom piece for yourself or for your loved ones, just message me on any of my social media accounts or email me at cynthiatin.go@gmail.com for details. 

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365, Prose, Writings

Not all who wander are lost

Your soul feels so much like home, and when I met you, I finally understood what they mean when they say, ‘Not all who wander are lost’.

For I always find myself wandering back in your arms.

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365, Prose, Writings

Always you

I dreamt of him last night and he asked me, “What’s your biggest mistake?”

I reached for his hands, but I woke up before I could answer him. And even though I knew he couldn’t hear me then, I still said it aloud, “You. Losing you. It will always be you.”

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #32

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

What hurts the most

It hurts, isn’t it? To receive from someone else the same love and attention you so much crave from him.

But that’s not what hurts the most.

To see him giving that same love and attention you want from him to someone else over and over again. To know that he’s fully capable to show you that love, but he just didn’t choose you, and he keep on not choosing you.

I think, that’s what hurts the most.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #31

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365, Prose, Writings

Happily ever after

The first time I looked at you, I didn’t see forever, more like unnecessary pains and broken hearts. And the second time our eyes met, I swear I’d hated you. You were the epitome of everything I hated in a guy, yet life has a funny way of making things right. I guess the universe really falls in love with stubborn hearts, and ours were the most stubborn of all.

It’s been nth times now of looking at you and I’ve already lost count, it turns out that you’re my happily ever after, after all.

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365, Prose, Writings

If love itself is enough

We don’t have anything in common except for this feeling of our hearts beating as one, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s enough. If love itself is enough. If love itself is enough to make every of our wrongs right. If love itself is enough to pull us through.

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365, Random Thoughts, Writings

Define Happiness

I guess my only self consolation for not being able to write is, I’m actually happy. It’s easy to bleed words when you are sad, but when you’re happy, it’s kind of hard to stop and pick up a pen and write things down, because you’re busy living life, being happy, being grateful. And it’s kind of a really really good feeling, and I guess happiness is a lot more difficult to capture in paper. I don’t even have words to express it.

[congrats to me! i’m signing off for awhile]

365, Prose, Writings

Your love is my destruction

What should I do,
when your laughter is my regret,
when your peace is my agitation,
when your love is my destruction?

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365, Poetry, Writings

Can we stay here for a while?

Can we stay here for a while,
Where you hold my hand,
And I hold my breath,
And I fight back tears as I hold back time
From separating us forever apart?

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365, Prose, Writings

On Dreams and Happiness

I find myself lost in between juggling my life, my dreams, and my happiness. And I don’t know what to do. Is this all there is? The things I do that makes me happy are not exactly the things that this world would applaud for, and the things I do to make my life seems worth it are not exactly the the things that makes me happy. And my dreams, I think I have it all wrong. And I think, is this my dream before? Why do I feel stuck now, and why does doing this dream does not make me happy anymore. Is this all there is to it?  At what point can I throw the white towels away and say I quit? At what point can I let go? At what point is it enough to let go? Should I even let go when I haven’t even begun? Is that even called letting go when my heart isn’t even into it anymore?

At what point can I stop chasing my dreams and not regret it one day?

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365, Poetry, Writings

Walls Everywhere

I scream to the walls that binds me up,
I claw at its surface until my fingernails snap,
I cover it with blood, my only lifeline,
Then I realize it is me who’s been keeping it up.

So I dig below until I get out,
Out of the walls that keep me out,
Of peoples lives and peoples buzz,
And I see the sunlight for the first time.

I breathe the air that suffocates me before,
It didn’t change apart from how I view things now,
The air that used to kill me, now brings me life,
I’m glad I tear the walls down.

//an old post of mine 😊

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365, Poetry, Writings

Walking away

Why is it whenever you walk out of the door,
my heart breaks into tiny little pieces,
my energy dipping way colder
than the antarctic ocean,
and I get this gnawing feeling,
at the pit of my stomach,
telling me that it is really me,
and my life,
that you’re walking out of.

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