Silent Luxury | Inactive

Song Jongin | 22 --- "I want no more of you than my own. I wish just for peace...by any means necessary."

[sxngjongxn]

{ the end }

Originally when I decided to create and write for the muse called Song Jongin, he was meant to be an expression for the emotions I was going through two years ago. At the time, I was beginning to come out of my depression, and rather than allowing myself to lapse back into anxiety and being lost in this world, I told myself that I wanted to be happy. Ironically, how I sought out that happiness was by expressing the sadness within me.

There are holes in Jongin's past that I was never able to completely write out due to procrastination and/or the inability to write out the plot in the quality that I desired. However, what I can say, is that it was very dark and hopeless.

Two years have passed, and I can confidently say that I am happy (or at least, I now know what happiness feels like). Through Jongin, I have met those that helped me grow, and significantly, I was blessed to have met my best friend. Hopefully she knows it's her, but I never imagined that I would have a friendship like I do with her. I love her dearly and she makes me so incredibly happy, and I'm so grateful that she's allowed me to be a part of her life.

And so, through the mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual growth that I've gone through in these last two years, I've decided to close this chapter of my life in terms of writing for Jongin as a muse. The plot and progression that I originally planned out does not fit with who I am and who he is anymore, and rather than force myself and him as my muse to write for that dark of a theme, I would rather leave him in the happiness that he has found in his story.

I will continue to write and do everything I can to improve, and perhaps, will find the right words to piece together for the next muse.

To those that I have met through Song Jongin, thank you for being part of my journey. I am sorry that I have inconsistent with our communication, and hope you'll forgive me for it. In the end, I'm very thankful to you.

Hoping to write again with those who are new and old to this community, Milgo

[sxngjongxn]

.19 | a letter to us | .fin

Sometimes it was a thought, and it felt like a whisper he had been waiting for. As unsettling as that could be, Jongin felt as if it would have been the perfect closing.

He was happy. He felt safe.

August 26, 2012

To my love,

Wherever you might be, and whomever you are now in the present, I would like you to know that I still cherish the thought of you. As of now, I am residing in Edinburgh and I cannot begin to describe the beauty of Scotland. It rains almost constantly here, but there is a warmth amongst the people and between every crevice of the city. Perhaps my time here will only be met with rain, and though rain is usually a symbol for the dreary, I feel hopeful.

You will laugh at me, but a few days ago, I stood in middle of the downpour while everyone else scattered for shelter beneath their umbrellas and the shops' canopies. I am sure that some thought of me as insane, but the feeling of cold rain on my face distracted me enough to not think of them. It was gratifying and freeing.

The last two years have been difficult and never before had I imagined myself to truly become acquainted to the meaning of loss as I have now. Perhaps and perhaps not, you will be surprised with the person I am now compared to the little boy you met all those years ago. I wonder if you still remember my face in the same way I wonder if I still remember you.

Strange how life has orchestrated itself around all of us. Events of the unimaginable have happened, and while I still feel the sense of paranoia and heartache pounding at my mind, I have also tasted the essence of peace. Subtle as it is, that calm has lead me to yearn for a hope that I will fight to the ends of the earth for.

Right now, anxiety and the tragedy of lost encompasses most of my heart. However...I want to happy again. Even though I may never deserve it for all the deeds I have done in the last two years, somewhere in my soul, I still wish and hope for the chance to be happy.

Are you happy? Did you also lose yourself but found yourself again?

I would like to see you, if you also wish it.

For now, however, these letters will have to suffice.

With much love, Jongin

[sxngjongxn]

bold any fears which apply to your muse. italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural. heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown. the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched.

[dxplicty]

There was this-…it was small and very thin. On a good day, Jongin liked to call it his patience and on his bad days: tolerance. Somehow (the reason will forever be vague and irritatingly so), whenever his twin was in the same vicinity, Jongin felt like he needed to combine the good and bad days to create a balance if only to keep himself from imploding.

Jongin grabs the throw pillow and chucks it at Kai’s face instead. “Why are you here? Did Soojung toss your cancer sticks again?”

Minseok would be home soon and dinner still needed to be made.

Tolerance. Patience. I will throw you out the window- paaattiiiieeennnnncceeee

It doesn’t help that his twin wouldn’t. Stop. Laughing.

“Will you please shut up?”

For some reason ( don’t ask him why now, he couldn’t tell you anyway ) whenever he is in the same room as his twin, there comes upon him the sudden urge to dig under Jongin’s skin as much as he possibly can. And judging by the reactions he receives, the same could be said for Jongin. Strange considering neither of them is known to be particularly prone to butting heads with other individuals when left to their own devices; it only happens when the brothers are thrown together.

Kai ducks the pillow easily, far too used to dodging the other projectile missiles that have been chucked his way in the past to be upset by the one pillow ( what does that say about the people he keeps around him… ), and carries on laughing just to spite Jongin some more. Sooner or later he’s going to jab at the other man’s buttons one too many times and get his ass handed back to him. But Kai’s always had a thing for pushing his luck.

“What, I’m not allowed to visit my own twin anymore? And yes, she did, but I got her back by emptying her liquor cabinet.” His eyes narrow at a sudden thought. “How did you know she’d chucked them? Are you in on it with her?” He wouldn’t put it past Jongin; they both nagged at him about his smoking habit…

[sxngjongxn]

Jongin rounded the sofa to pick up the pillow, tossing it to the loveseat, and made a straight line to the kitchen, throwing the fridge doors open upon reach.

"Oh please, that's the least that I can expect from Soojung when you're here," he responds and frowns at the sad sack of purple potatoes. "She's been wanting to take hits on the manufactoring companies, but thought to the CEOs a visit instead. Obviously it didn't work if she took out her frustration on your cigarettes instead."

The smell was vile and Jongin couldn't understand why his brother chose them as his recreation habit. They caused cancer and put those who do not even touch those death sticks an even higher risk of having their lungs collapse. Plus. The smell. It was an amazement that Kai didn't reek of it.

Baked halibut and mangos...peanut sauce...where is that pineapple...

"You know she's going to have your head for that." Jongin leaned back enough to throw Kai a smirk before grabbing the garlic bunch. "She collects those from around the world, whereas you could just walk down to the convience store and buy another."

[sxngjongxn]

“ i can see your underwear, how is that not hilarious? ”

Jongin rolled his eyes and if anything, was even less ashamed about walking around in his husband’s button-up. 

“I’m attempting to be sexy,” he replied drily. “Thought it would help re-motivate me into working out again.”

[sxngjongxn]

“ don’t even bother with clothes, the view really is spectacular. ”

There was this-...it was small and very thin. On a good day, Jongin liked to call it his patience and on his bad days: tolerance. Somehow (the reason will forever be vague and irritatingly so), whenever his twin was in the same vicinity, Jongin felt like he needed to combine the good and bad days to create a balance if only to keep himself from imploding. 

Jongin grabs the throw pillow and chucks it at Kai’s face instead. “Why are you here? Did Soojung toss your cancer sticks again?”

Minseok would be home soon and dinner still needed to be made.

Tolerance. Patience. I will throw you out the window- paaattiiiieeennnnncceeee

It doesn’t help that his twin wouldn’t. Stop. Laughing.”

“Will you please shut up?”

[sandcvstles]

five-word sentences.

“ please just let me forget. ”

“ c'mon try to guess what. ”

“ just leave me alone already. ”

“ no, i’m not going to. ”

“ you can’t change my mind. ”

“ my mind is made up. ”

“ i’m not gonna let you. ”

“ don’t do that to me. ”

“ think about what you’re doing. ”

“ why aren’t you listening now? ”

“ i want to sleep forever. ”

“ you need to leave now. ”

“ i’ll always have your back. ”

“ now there’s no going back. ”

“ the view really is spectacular. ”

“ i didn’t think you’d care. ”

“ why can’t you trust me? ”

“ don’t even bother with clothes. ”

“ i don’t love you anymore. ”

“ i am a great person. ”

“ you are a tolerable drunk. ”

“ exactly, why are you awake? ”

“ i’m gonna ignore you now. ”

“ how is that not hilarious? ”

“ please just calm down now. ” 

“ i was already calm, asshole. ”

“ i can see your underwear. ”

“ i’m afraid you’ll replace me. ”

“ please stop losing your temper. ”

“ you can cry if needed. ”

“ you have to run away. ”

“ i just wanna be yours. ”

“ ashes, we all fall down. ”

“ i’m hoping you’ll understand me. ”

[s-ensitivus]

[sxngjongxn]

.

[word-stuck]

[word-stuck]

Hey, I've already been wondering for a while if there's a word for being in love with the unreachable. Do you know any word which would express that love?

la douleur exquise

a French term that describes the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable;

narrower than “unrequited love,” as it refers specifically to the emotional experience of the one whose love is not being reciprocated;

it is the exquisite pain one experienced when loving someone they can never have, and knowing that they will still try to be with them

[word-stuck]

Is there a word for someone who realize that is living an important and beautiful moment, so tries to enjoy and just love every second of it? Because im that kind of person to be honest, so i'd like to know how to call this feeling, ha. Thank you!

The Latin phrase, carpe diem (“seize the day”) is used to urge someone to enjoy the pleasures of the moment while caring less for the future.

It is to put aside all differences, all fears, all worries, and just go for it — to make the most out of that part of time.  

(From Horace, Odes I.xi.8: Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero, meaning “seize the day while trusting little on what tomorrow might bring”.)

related words: carpe vitam, (Latin, “seize life”); ichigo ichie 一期一会 (Japanese, “one time, one meeting”); livsnjutare (Swedish, “enjoyer of life”); pábitel (Czech)

[sxngjongxn]

.18

I think silence does us both well. In ways neither of us would like to admit, but it’s there between the crevices of empty greetings and dried out concerns. 

It’s there in the way you handle your cup of tea in the morning, fingers scratching idly at the rim as if it’d pick away with each persistent stroke. 

It’s there in the way I can’t seem to fill the space hanging in our mornings, and am left with a null option of hoping you would at least try to catch my eye.

They don’t, and I whisper to myself that it’s just one day. The next will be better.

-

Taps and kettle whistles speak more for us than our gestures anymore. What used to be affectionate glances and fond touches become hesitant strokes playing with insecure callings. 

We’re reverted to day one. Just with less curiosity. More tolerance.

My chest aches, my lips bumble for something to cling to, but-...I’m terrified. Terrified that when I do catch your gaze, the warmth that had once anchored my sanity back to this world would now be something too cold to hold. 

So I don’t say.

And neither do you.

-

“Same question as before; do you love him?”

“You know I do. Him now...him then...he’s just him.”

“But you won’t tell him? That you feel this way? Why?”

“I-...”

“Tell him. The hurt will be inevitably harsher if you let fear block you for too long, my dear.”

-

Flutters still beat at my heart when I wake up to you, and they stay when I spend more seconds than necessary wondering about your existence next to mine. Hesitation still laces its talons into my will to touch, to kiss you, but, perhaps this morning, it shall be different.

-

“Love stays only when you wish it to. It is patient, kind, merciful, but it is also fearsome and fearless all at once. If you hesitate without an ending day, love will leave. No matter how reluctant it is to.”

[thatkindofwoman]

I’m in love with people’s hands and the way they clench their fists and the way their fingertips lightly press down onto piano keys or thighs. Calloused fingers or dainty fingers. Hands writing poems or memos or parking tickets. Hands writing futures. To me, every crease on the palm is a love line.

Mesogeios (via thatkindofwoman)

[sxngjongxn]

.17

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mama?”

There was always something Song Jinyi never said. At least, not completely. And yet, there wasn’t a gap Jongin was ever aware of - a moment he could pin as a shadow of a void. 

Low hums of the car resonated through the slitted windows of their home, the occasional honks and scratching of tires creating a rhythm Jongin found solace in, seemed to be all the morning melody needed for their breakfast. Toast and pastel ceramic pots of blackberry jams sat idly beside the honey and stick of butter, though all the young kitten could pay mind to, was the sizzling of sausage popping away on the stove.

“There’s a letter for Mr. James in the parlor,” Jinyi called over the stove’s fan, glanced over her shoulder with a quick look to the door leading out the kitchen. “Grab it for me, will you, darling?”

Little Jongin, seven of age with his grey ears almost as big as his cheeks and tail too fluffy and long that he sometimes trips over them, nods before slipping off the stool.

[broken-wishes]

[myeonns]