𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒. ⌇𝒚𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊.

십팔 ¹⁸

A/N: some of the writing in this particular section is based on philosophical thinking, so if you don't agree, skip the first part.

𝑊𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 -𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑑

Y/N

I can't say I'm afraid, nor am I scared of feeling a particular up brought feeling that some may bring up in their common lives.

I'd think about it while asleep, I'd think about it while I catch myself caught upon a task.

It is painted, and sketched to be negative and one of the most alluring things, or per say, feelings one may find themselves opening.

It makes me question my small decisions, then ambushing me in darkly serious matters.

But when I know the particular thing or feeling as some describe as somewhat of a 'spark', I will know.

It is pain, It can tear apart the strings in which a various species may have for one, or more.

It can be abused, to the final straw in which one may get pulverized, multifarious ways.

It can be yet the same spark in which a delusional one, or observant, and become a horrifying beast upon ones self.

How can this feeling or element be so craved, by many? It is a poison to heal the good, but to ruin the good and kill the bad.

Why must there be no answer to this riddle disguised as a unresponsive question?

Just stop tormenting me, whatever you do, may it bring me joy or pain, just stop.

Love is a blood bath of a mess. That's all I've learned from you. How can I let you go, Yoongi? How? Why are you confusing me?

How is it so easy for others? Or is it all just an act to put on into believing love is so great and beautiful. Because it's the complete opposite. I want to scream, I want to break things, I want to grab up my razor blade and slice my flesh till the skin gets stuck in between those red edges.

But I can't. Because my stupid mind can't erase you.

The night before I almost came to deleting those letters I wrote, I looked at the same faded polaroid I took. Memories, of just a few months felt like decades. Plato once created a word called Eunoia. It means beautiful thinking; a feeling of fulfillment. That's what I feel. Eunoia.

I walked around my room for hours, but my eyes kept gazing outside the wide window, leading towards my balcony. The night sky, how gross it was. So many eye catching stars, and the purple-ish haze it painted, made me want to vomit.

Probably because it reminded me of you.

My sweater barely kept me warm that night, I held onto my Shooky plushie like I wasn't going to wake up the next day. I want to treat each day with you like it's my last. If you didn't exist, I'd be an empty canvas.