Poetry

dormant feelings

Time will lead you back
to old conversations
long interpreted
to forced messages
accidentally deleted
to sweet words
never expressed.

Vaguely asking questions:
has the heart healed
is the love still there
did the pain go away
are feelings just dormant?

I hope in your mind the answers land.

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Poetry

feel no more

Some clouds move faster than the other clouds.

I guess it says so much about our hearts moving on.

But some days, there are no clouds at all.

See: Inks and Pain
Search: feeling empty
Daily Post’s None.

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Sweet

You Can’t Force Art

You can’t force art.

That statement has long been in my mind since I skipped blogging for a month, I just can’t seem to bring the words straight out. Since then, I have published three posts which imply that very thought. And two of them share a connection surprising enough for me to write about it.

October last year, I wrote “the pen ran out of ink,” sharing how I kept writing but stopped publishing for a while, the reason being I barely get to finish a piece I could proudly put out, and claiming that my ink needs to stop bleeding from time to time, just like my heart. February of this year, “Inks and Pain” came out, and in it I talked about struggling to produce bittersweet or sad stories because my heart stopped bleeding at once—almost as if it’s feeling no more—driving me to ask for pain when it rains, so my ink could bleed again.

It’s not just because of the ink that the connection was made (I just really like that word) but more so with the contrast of emotion from both posts which affected its bleeding. The abundant feelings of last year obstructed me to write but the emptiness of today doesn’t make it any different. Even this post took me a while to make!

Now I rarely write down ideas on tissue papers and receipts or on anything I could take a hold of, my Notes don’t receive sudden thoughts I could turn into poetry, I am lost for words and my mind is probably still on vacation.

You can’t force art, but you can force yourself not to think too much about it and try out other things and just live. And maybe then, art will introduce itself again.

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Strange

Inks and Pain

It has become unusually harder for me to create bittersweet stories which evoke a bit of melancholia ever since pain stopped knocking on my heart.

I am questioning myself if I could still feel something, anything—anger, bitterness, frustration, shame, love, sadness—towards some certain people in my life and how important that emotion is in our relationship, but I’m afraid at times I feel empty because there is nothing to feel.

I oppose being empty, my mind resists engaging at the very thought of it, my heart stubbornly refuses to believe it is real, that it could happen, especially to me.

I who have joined the bandwagon of cold people claiming they have empty hearts when they are really just lonely. I who turned sadness into art whenever tears reach the tip of my tongue, or even when tears haven’t come. I who became overly familiarized with pain that I recognize it in other people’s eyes and understand it with my heart. I who thinks of welcoming pain again in my life, just so I could divert my attention in feeling nothing when there could be everything, or even just a thing.

The rain used to make my ink bleed with pain, now I’m asking pain to make my ink bleed when it rains.

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Emotions Don’t Last

For two consecutive years, the top post of my blog remains the same: Unconscious Love. While I see no problem in that, it’s a little troubling to think how people led them there: by searching ‘sad couple’ on the internet.

The featured photo I used for the post is simply named ‘sad couple’ and mistakenly linking it to the source didn’t prevent it from getting the attention it currently enjoys. One look at my search engine stats and you’ll think that there’s a lot of people who are sad, as the top fifteen searches managed to have the word ‘sad’ in it. But then again most of my posts have a hint of sadness, so it’s no wonder I’m attracting all the brokenhearted, miserable, rejected, unhappy ones and all the synonyms of a sad person you can think of.

Yes, it’s a little troubling that all these people are sad, but sadness is an emotion and emotions don’t last, they constantly change and shape us to become the person we are supposed to be. I only hope that, through my blog, people will realize they are not alone in this world, that someone from another country shares the same pain they have, and that we will all get through, always.

Now going back to Unconscious Love, I remembered asking: Are we really capable of loving someone unconsciously? To which I have long found the answer. (Bear in mind that I’m talking about romance.)

We are not capable of loving someone unconsciously. We feel it; we are aware when it’s starting to grow in our hearts and mess with our mind and our life in general. We know it coz we start to look at someone in a very special (and weird) way. We simply recognize love and all of us are conscious when it comes to it. Because love just is.

Discover Challenge: Hope Gone Viral

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Photography

Complementary Feelings

The picture was edited to complement the feelings of the writer towards love right now—a subtle fade to tame the darkness, the different shades of light creeping in the unknown, and the slight irregularity of it all. 

Love is such a crazy great thing that one can just look up and recognize it. 

Photo Challenge’s Look Up

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