ₘ.ₛₑₐₐₐ☽

ʷʰᵃᵗˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ

[bleedingsea]

I've come to terms already with the ache of longing for you that surges through my heart. I have learned to finally accept that the paths we once took together have diverged. And I can no longer give remedy to this existing missing piece of me, but just learn to live with it instead—ironically, it makes me feel a bit blithe and also empty at the same time.

Somehow glad, that the torment of longing for you has ebbed, while being perfectly sentient that I can't give remedy to it, for time has walked you further away from a place where I can no longer stand and walk beside you. Yet, there is this sting in my chest knowing that I am already learning how to not crave spending another precious memory with you. Though the awareness remains that if you were to call my name, I would run to you without a wee dubiety in both my heart and soul—this only happens when I am busy, though. For in those moments of stillness, your memory gently slips into my thoughts, and your name is being whispered in my heart again.

To miss someone you have never truly known, to ache for a person whose name remains a mystery, is a throb in one's heart. Yet, there is this strange and enchanting beauty in yearning for a heart and soul you've ironically known but never seen; and this is one of those nights. As I drift into this melancholic reverie, it feels as though my heart sinks into the deepest trench, powerless to mend this missing piece of me but to hope and pray instead that God may watch over you and fill your heart and soul with luminescence.

— To miss someone you don't know || cinnamon

(July 5, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

"You can rest with me..."

No. For every boy who have tried, they all failed. Because without a wee percentage or dubiety, he's home.

If I yearn for someone's presence right now, it would be his. If it's a hug, then I need the warmth of his embrace. If it's to slumber in serenity, he'd be my chosen home. He was a helping hand whenever I trip. With him, all the silent screams could finally cascade down my cheeks from these tired eyes. All the scintillating beam could flow easily throughout my veins. So no, I'd rather rest on my own. For a rest in someone's arms would only be possible if it's in his embrace. And none could evermore supersede nor surpass what I felt with him nor what I feel right now.

Simply because he was my favourite cup of coffee during a rainstorm. A blaze during the snowstorm. He was a diary for each heartstrings felt. His voice, a velvet song to my soul. He was and is my serenity. My oasis. My solace.

— Home || cinnamon

(June 10, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

The first experience was gloomy. Fate was terrible. This is the second time we've crossed paths. You may choose to never speak to me again, which I know will break my heart, but I will accept and respect that. I know you'll never understand how my heart feels, and that's fine. I know it would be heartbreaking and cause a thousand paper cuts if I continued, but that's okay because I appreciate you from a distance. I'd still rather love you than try to love someone else. Because I know there are billions of individuals in the world, and my eyes would look for you. My heart would cry forth your name. My feet would lead me to you. My soul would feel at peace with yours. And that's how I know I am genuinely, truthfully, loving unconditionally.

— My heart will always choose you || cinnamon

(May 12, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

"To love or to be loved,"

"To love something because... or to love it despite..."

The realisation hits me again. I’ve always known "love knows no reason," but it never resonated quite like how these two do now. I might have said a hundred times that I can't quite articulate why or how my heart is loving you. But I've already lost count of how many times I’ve realised and said, "This is love." Oh, and now look, another two even added themselves.

If asked whether I’d choose "to love or to be loved," if it's you and only you, I’d definitely choose both without a doubt. Maybe 60:40 into ratio. Because I’d gladly give a hundredfold of my love if I could offer every breathtaking wonder and heartwarming thing that exists in this vast universe, because you deserve them all. And it's okay that you don't see or speak the same kind of love my heart speaks as I look at you. Because, genuinely speaking, I already am lucky enough to cross paths with you. I've met and lost people in my life throughout the years, and my heart has been taken advantage of a few times already, and I would not deny I've bruised others' hearts as well while trying to protect mine. But none has ever touched my soul the way you do. And I couldn't and wouldn't dare to ask for more. But it would be a lie to say I haven’t dreamed of being loved by you. Even though I’ve come to terms with what Laufey said, “that you and I could never be” in her song "I Wish You Love," if given another shot at what was just inches away from the tips of our grasp, I’d choose us. For us to be just us; choosing and loving each other for a lifelong.

That’s why I know it’s always been "to love despite..." and never "to love because..." It’s loving you even when I know your heart doesn’t call out my name like mine whispers yours. It’s loving you despite knowing you might not see a future with me as I do with you. Despite the pain of possibly being forgotten while I remember every detail of what makes you, well, you—even our late-night talks about everything and nothing. It’s loving and supporting you despite the need to let you go. To choose us despite the flaws. It’s loving you despite being the only one who wonders what a love curated by our souls intertwined would feel like. To choose each other, even as our hair turns grey, wrinkles form on our skin, and our steps eventually go slow; choosing to love each other 'til our 80s.

So as I watched you walk there in the middle of that crowd, I smiled while thanking the heavens above again for at least letting our souls meet.

— To love… || cinnamon

(August 20, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

I admit, there are times when I have to will myself to overlook the possibility that you might fall in love with someone else. Maybe in the future, or in the next few months, or maybe you already did and you haven't realised it yet... And I could never dispute the subsistence that, just by thinking of it, hurts me to my core already. Paradoxically speaking, though, I know for myself that it would feel like paper cuts in my heart, yet I'll choose to be genuinely happy for you. Sometimes, I lose sight of the fact that all I'm trying to do is avoid thinking about those things in order to escape this heart-burning reality. I gaslight myself into thinking that I should just make the best of what's in front of us right now. And I should just deal with the heartbreak when the time finally comes. Because I'd be wasting my time hurting myself instead of weaving the best memories with you while I still could. I just hope that in one of these parallel universes or maybe in another lifetime, your heart and soul would long and recognise mine as home.

— In another universe or lifetime || cinnamon

(July 21, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

As time passes, it becomes increasingly ironic that I have so much to write about how my heart speaks your name while being unable to articulate it. All I know is that I begin my day thinking about how your night was and how your sleep was. I spend the next several hours working, but there will always be moments when a smile is suddenly painted on my lips as your name is smoothly whispered in my thoughts. And I'll end my night by thanking the heavens for meeting you. It's becoming increasingly difficult to express what I feel. One of the few things I am sure of is that the warmth of your heart and soul will always feel like home. Another way to put it is that loving you means not falling, but flying. And you're not just a simple celestial being; you complete the night sky worth admiring for a lifetime.

— A complete night sky to admire || cinnamon.

(July 19, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

No, because that's how I distinguish its uniqueness; I've attempted to center my writing around others before, and it feels like an arduous effort. It's a struggle, often taking hours to complete a mere paragraph, as if I'm constantly pushing against resistance. Yet, when the subject is you, I can always write spontaneously, and it flows so smoothly. I can always weave the right words effortlessly—it just streams seamlessly from my heart to the tip of my pen. That's how I discern the difference—it's when it's about you.

— That's how I know || cinnamon

(June 30, 2024)

[bleedingsea]

Making time is purposefully carving out moments for loved ones, even amidst busyness, ensuring they feel valued and prioritized. It's about making the effort to stay connected, maybe to tell how was your day without them having to ask, to ask them how was theirs while showing genuine interest, or maybe to just drop off a sense of security and assurance. However, waiting for free time is passive, relying on chance rather than intention. It's disheartening when one invests deeply, only to receive indifference or minimal effort.

But perhaps it's not solely their fault. While making time for loved ones is a noble effort, maybe we need to understand that everyone has different capacities and priorities. Maybe it's not necessarily anyone's fault if they're unable to reciprocate in the same way or to the same extent.

Maybe the hurt felt stems from expecting too much, from hoping for reciprocation where none is promised or owed.

Realizing this, what if I stop expecting so much from others? Should I pull back on giving if I feel like I'm doing too much? Am I giving too much? It weighs on me to feel perplexed, bewildered, and unsure about what to feel anymore.

— Is it this too much? || m.seaaa

[bleedingsea]

[bleedingsea]

It hurts knowing he can no longer picture my face crystal clear these days. But I feel very lucky because, despite the fact that he might have chosen to forget about me, he decided to remember everything, from the smallest to the most important details that define me.

However, it hurts more because I'm starting to slowly forget how soft and homely it felt as he spoke my name. How his sweet voice sounded whenever he sings me a song. I could bear with the idea of him forgetting me, but the idea of me slowly forgetting him frightens me.

 

His favourite flavoured dessert is vanilla. His favourite pancakes. Ah, the menudo that he always loved. His fav literary piece that I gave him. The way he buys his mother flowers at every special occasion. How he likes doing crafts. How he always loved photography. Taking pictures of the stars, the moon, and the sunsets.

 

The way he would take his coffee even in the middle of the night. He always loved listening to music. He always loved painting. The way he loves writing to express what he feels. How he smiles whenever he sings. The way he sweetly laughs.

 

Then his voice. Because his voice was the only thing that I knew about the real him behind this screen. And realising that I can no longer remember the way he speaks my name shatters my heart.

 

Fate has been cruel to us, but I never regretted falling for him. I forced myself to forget, but my heart kept too many pieces of him already. Fate has been excruciating for our hearts, but I was beyond glad he was the one whom I loved. Whom I made sure to feel loved by me. 

 

— Forgetting y o u is what frightens me || cinnamon

April 22, 2024

(photo from pinterest)

[bleedingsea]

As I delved into those words, teardrops started to cascade down my face, unleashing a flood of memories. Emotions and thoughts long buried surged back to the surface. The way you describe those intricate details of my being melted my heart, revealing the truth I had tried so hard to deny: Your existence is already a part of me.

How could I forget those late-night conversations, the exchanged texts and emails that illuminated my heart as we shared and created memories? From the mundane and silliest to the most heartwarming, every topic we talked about became a cherished moment.

 

How could I forget someone who always made sure to capture the beauty of the moon? Who never forgets to take a photo of the sunset because he knows I love them even though I only mentioned it once. Who always made sure to send me photos of cats in every place he would go because he knew I love cats. 

 

How could I forget someone who tried to learn and delve into the meanings of every flower I mentioned, how he described me through his eyes, and how I gleamed as I mentioned them one by one?

 

How could I forget someone who willingly watched an animation from YouTube after knowing it was my favourite, even though it was too cliché for others?

 

How could I dismiss the efforts of someone who sought out books he believed I would like, one of which became a favourite of mine?

 

How could I forget those moments when I was shattering, when he tenderly picked up my fractured pieces even when he's hurting as well? Moments of shared laughter at my silliness and jokes. Those moments when I wanted to cross the bridge, but he made sure I knew he would keep holding my hand so I wouldn't go.

 

How could I ever forget the man who introduced me to a movie that I never knew would become my sanctuary? That whenever I watch it, it always reminds me of him. The way he would make time so we could watch movies even when he's busy. Him, who would gladly watch it all over again with me. 

 

How could I forget a man who taught me how to handle myself? Who taught me how to believe in and see my worth? Who taught me how to write wholeheartedly? Who taught me the beauty of taking risks? Who taught me to grow? Who taught me what real love is with all its beauty and flaws?

 

How could I ever forget a man who etched himself in my heart despite not knowing who he was behind the screen? A man who became a piece of my heart. A man who became a gleaming piece of my soul. A man who would always have a big part in my life.

 

— How could I || cinnamon

April 22, 2024

(photo from pinterest)