مفقود // הפסד

there's no other way i know how to let out emotions without painstakingly bleeding my way out of each and every one of them because somehow the image of fear and the idea of beauty has contorted together and has been regurgitated to us in a way that makes it hurt less.

i don't know how to be brave.

i don't know how to be strong. 

i don't know if i am still capable of fine tuning every negative thought that flits into my head. 

i don't know so many things that i'm supposed to know.

and i can't tell if i'm wrong or if everybody's right because i can't seem to draw the lines anymore. there's so much difference that suddenly it becomes the same and there's a stab somewhere in my gut where things were supposed to get better, when breathing didn't hurt this bad, when crying meant i had lost something instead of someone. 

and fear didn't equate to the hollowness of every fibre of your bone when you realise they were never there. they were beautiful illusions and haunting hallucinations.

they were sunshine before the hurricane rolled in and killed every inch of your worth.

but somehow it always comes down to this:

"it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

-dina xx