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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.

– – –

// 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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