Bismillah
My lacrimal duct has not dried up, I learnt that today.
It was the 14th episode of Hotel Del Luna, in which I find that when you have so much feelings in your heart, but no way to pour it out, it can be dangerously suffocating.
It's not that I'm desperate to be someone's someone. I have come to terms that it'll make no difference in the end when you'll die alone anyway.
It's just that, I'm scared of shutting away the loneliness I feel, making it so unrecognisable, to the point of it being a disease that latches on me, and taps away at things I find joy in, and later lead me to do things I'd regret. Things that turns me ugly. Things that blackens my heart.
Maybe asking "how are you".
Is better done in front of the mirror.
"I'm not well".
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