Browse Tag by words
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, Hushed Series (custom pieces), Prose, Writings

Why?

Do you remember our first day together, our first touch, the first time you told me you love me, the first time you held my face in your hands and kiss me? Or how about that day you decided “I would like her to be with me for the rest of my life. I think she’s the one,” or that fateful day when you ask for my hand? Do you still remember any of it? Because I do. I still do. And those memories burned longer and brighter on my heart, those memories are engraved on me, memories that I know you also have. So why did you do this to me? Why did you cheat on me and leave me after all the moments we’ve shared? Why?

I thought this kind of problems only happen in movies, or in novels I read. It’s not supposed to happen in my life. I mean it’s you after all. The half of my life, the one I trusted the most, the one I loved the most. But it did happen. The first time I caught you cheating, I forgave you. It hurts so much, but I still keep on forgiving you. My trust with you are irreparably broken, and could you blame me? But I still choose to forgive you. I choose to forgive you because I love you. Why can’t you do the same for me?

// this is a custom piece request from someone. I hope I did justice to her story and feelings. Thank you so much for sharing and entrusting me your story. 

// 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 @ cynthiatin.go@gmail.com for details. 

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365, Prose, Writings

I miss you

Maybe the saddest lines can’t really be written, and the saddest thoughts can’t really be uttered. And maybe, I miss you, is the closest thing we could have.

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365, Poetry, Writings

Sing me a song

Sing me a lullaby,
Of words too deep all I could do is feel,
Sing me songs from the ancient moon,
Of how it loves the sea and its tides,
And all the creatures underneath it.
Sing me the songs of the wolves,
Of their whisperings and howlings,
Of their pain and anguish,
And of how they love the moon so much,
All they could do is yearn,
And hate its moonlight glow.
Or better yet,
Sing me the songs of the winds,
Whispering beyond what you can hear,
And how they carry each wishes, unheard prayers, and unsung love notes,
To the hearts of the right ones
When the time is right.

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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

Blank Space

Most people don’t know the struggles of not having anything to write when you need to write. You stare into the space, you lie down in your bed, then you stare blankly at your ceiling, maybe holding a notebook in one hand, and holding a pen on the other hand. But no thoughts are coming. Usually, this feels so peaceful, having no thoughts whatsoever. Finding your mind so blissfully at peace and quiet and clear. But then you have to write and your mind is still clear, and seems on indefinite leave. What then do you do? Do you dare to disturb this peace just to write? Or do you give up writing? When this happens to me, I still write. I write whatever comes to my mind. I let the ideas and words skip my peaceful mind and let it straightly flow down to my lips as I mouth each word, and down to my arms and fingertips as I type each letters and punctuation. Or I write about not being able to write, just like what I’m doing now. But don’t stop.

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365, Prose, Writings

If a tree falls in a forest

I was taught young how to be stone-cold, self-reliant, to hold myself high and poised, with a ready smile and a subtle charm ready to conquer the world. So I learned from early on to only cry behind close doors, on dim lights, without sound, to howl in pain silently, to break down without anyone knowing, and to never ask for help. Because when no one sees you suffering, do you really suffer? Much like, when a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I can always just pretend that whatever pains me never happened, and I can always go back and face the world pretending I’m okay.

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365, Prose, Writings

Untitled

Do you know that feeling where you just wanted to say “I don’t know what to do” over and over again? Because you literally don’t have an idea what to do anymore and you feel like you’re trapped in this black black void of mess you can’t seem to get out of no matter how fast you tried to run?

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do anymore. And you know what, if you’re ever feeling this, you’re not alone. I’m so deep and stuck in this moment too. I don’t know what to do.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #23

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365, Prose, Writings

Landmines

There are people I wish I didn’t lay myself bared, open, and vulnerable. People I wish I didn’t share my innermost thoughts, musings, and feelings. People I regret sharing myself. Friends and lovers alike. I feel like the few times I’ve finally trusted someone, are the times that I’ve trusted the wrong person. It’s like the universe telling me, “darling, when will you learn? This world is full of landmines and fucked up people disguised as your friends and lovers, and they will keep on hurting you if you will not learn how to shut up your damn heart.”

And what’s funny is I always thought you belong to those kind of people, but in the end, you’re the only one that stays, and you’re the only one that I didn’t regret sharing myself. Or maybe I’m wrong again. In any case, sweetheart, please don’t turn up like them.

// excerpt from a book i’ll never write #22

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365, Prose, Writings

Gravity

In the end, I still go back to you every single time, because no matter how far I drift away from you, you always pull me back safely to the shore just before I drown away from my own self-made black holes.

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365, Prose, Writings

The first time we touched

The first time we touched, it’s as if a whole new world of galaxies had opened up, the universe conspired, the stars approved, the moon stopped hiding just to peer at us from above, and for the first time, finally, finally, something felt right.

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365, Prose, Writings

Hush

Can I fall asleep with your lips touching mine and your limbs wrap up around me? I promise you to volunteer my own heart to shush your fears, and when you want to stop breathing, I will share you my breathe, the space I occupy, my soul, and even a part of my eternity, just to make you mine, just to make you feel loved.

//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #21

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365, Poetry, Writings

A love that can withstand

She used to believe on a love that never lasts
Her innocent heart dreamt of a life that only exists
On fairytale books and hollywood movies
Until a boy with lightning on his eyes
Thunder on his voice, and fire on his kisses
Came and swept her off her feet,
Whispering her promises of heaven and hell.

But he was all hell and never heaven.

Now she only believes on a love
That can withstand the damage made on her heart,
And as strong as the swords forge
From the fires of hell
That she’s been through.

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365, Poetry, Random Thoughts, Writings

Mirror mirror on the wall

Mirror mirror on the wall
All I see is nothing but fraud.
– – – –

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Lately, I’ve been feeling out of sorts, my words never seem to be enough. Worst is I’m recently getting more than my normal likes and shares on my tumblr blog, but I still feel like sh*t. 🙊 For some reasons, I feel like my words don’t seem to have life, lacking of soul, and not like how I used to write before. And no matter how many people had taken time to message me to show their appreciation and to tell me to keep up the good work, I still don’t feel enough. 😔 I find myself constantly comparing myself to the past version of me, to the younger me that could write with soul, and I find my current self lacking. I’m guessing people could relate to my recent writings, but is it of any good if I couldn’t relate to my own works? 😔

I’m finding it hard recently to write, not because of the lack of words or ideas, but because I just can’t seem to relate to my own piece, and I can’t appreciate my own words, and it just doesn’t feel like enough, or me anymore. 😔 

Anyways, just ranting, nowadays, I feel like a handicap when I cannot write. 😂