Second Best Isn't Good Enough || Kim Jiwon - Solo
Jiwon stepped into the empty gymnasium. It was one she had practiced so hard in for so many years. A place that held a lot of good memories. And one really bad one. It had been a while since she had been there. Mostly because she didn't want to run into anyone that she used to know. She used to smile, her real smile, here. She used to laugh and have fun. She had friends and people that she truly felt close to, but all of that was gone now.
She had come later at night, she still had her key to the place, something her mother at the time had pulled some strings to get for her. They thought that maybe someday she'd represent South Korea and the Kim family in the Olympics. She loved rhythm gymnastics with all her heart, body, and mind. She was quite good, but even with all the extra hours she put in, she still wasn't quite good enough to beat all of the competition, finishing second in her regional competition.
And in the Kim family, if you weren't the best at something, then what was the point?
"Second-best isn't good enough."
Her father said those words to her as she was pulled crying to her coach. He made her stand there while he berated her coach for not making her a winner and for demanded her immediate removal from all further gymnastics lessons. After that incident, she didn't come out of her room other than to eat for a week. Even then, she didn't even speak to anyone. Her gymnastics friends called her, she ignored the calls. She wouldn't be allowed to see them anyway, so what was the point in conversing?
She spotted one of the balls they used in their competitions. A light green one, it reminded her of the one she used to use. She picked it up, the weight and size of it very familiar. She bounced it a few times on the floor, trying to remember her old routine. It was a little fuzzy, but a lot of it was going to be muscle memory, she was sure of it. Jiwon went through the necessary stretching techniques before stepping onto the mat. She went through the motions, her body fluid, the ball moving precisely where she wanted it. It was a release for her, a way to feel like she did back then. Happy.
The routine continued, and despite her being a while removed from it, she seemed to remember it well. As it ended, she laid down on the mat, her eyes tearing up a bit. No one would ever see her like this, at her most vulnerable. Kim Jiwon didn't cry, that would be beneath her and her family. Or so they would tell her, anyway. She hated what she'd become, fake, cynical, quick to judge others. She did it all for them, though, her family whom she loved so much. The family that she hated so much.
Jiwon cried because she realized that she was just like the dark gymnasium she had just done her old routine in. Empty.
