Browse Tag by words
365, Prose, Writings

Prosaic

My words are raw. I am long past using flowery poetic words to describe my feelings. Hurt is hurt. Anger is anger. Breaking is breaking. I want you to see me as I am. Broken. Breathing. Surviving.

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365, Poetry, Writings

Words

I’ve lost my words
the moment I lost you
and the stubborn in me just refuses
to let you have that kind of power
over my words.

And yet, here I am again
Writing about you.

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*Follow me on facebook.com/cynthiagoquotes
I just created one. 😅😣

365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

Wishes

We cannot choose who we fall in love with. But we can choose who we end up with. I hope you end up with the one you deeply madly love.

And if you can’t, if ever you end up with someone do not love, I hope the heavens will be gracious and merciful enough to change your heart if not the circumstances.

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

Clean slate

I want to lose everything. I want to lose everyone. I want to lose myself. I want to lose everything I know about me and the world, so I could start all over again.

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365, Prose, Random Thoughts, Writings

If you think about it

If you think about it, everyone of us will die. Rich, poor, young, old, whatever you have achieved or whoever you are, all of us have the same destination. Dust to earth. So why then do we keep on burdening ourselves, killing ourselves with anxiety, filling our days and nights with incessant thoughts of what to do, or what to accomplish, or if we have enough, or how to have more than enough, when all of it, all of it, regardless of our achievements, popularity, fame, and money, stand nothing in the face of death?

Why then can’t we just live simply and happy and contented, and be kind to everyone and anyone we meet?

Why then do we need to prove to ourselves that we can do this and that, have this and that, be this and that, when even a second from now is not really ours?

Why then do we wait forever before we say I love you to the person we love, and why don’t we spend time with the people who really matters to us when all we really have is this life and this lifetime to expend?

If you think about it, everyone of us will die.

Why then do we let ourselves suffer so much?

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365, Prose, Writings

Rise up

A day will come when your days will be unbearably too long, your nights will be too quiet, and the floor will feel too cold on your skin, and you won’t have any other choice but to pick yourself up, kick your feet up, and rise up again.

Because really, how long will you stay down, waiting, crying, and moping around when you’re the only one who can decide to save yourself?

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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.

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// 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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