La presión social, en especial, la que me rodeó en su momento, respecto a que, "A cierta edad hay que encontrarse en pareja para poder proyectarse, tener familia y demases", éso, me afectó a tal punto, que por suerte, terminé tomando sólo dos pésimas y dolorosas decisiones; primero, por haber perdido mi sentido común causado por el desespero provocado por dicha presión, segundo, y por consiguiente, haber mantenido taanto tiempo las ilusiones basadas en actos de conquistas (por parte de esas personas), que en la realidad eran imposibles de sostener en el tiempo.
Hoy en día, no saben el peso que me saqué al asumir esta visión en retrospectiva, a su vez, me da la fuerza para vivir y disfrutar mi propia vida, libre de culpas, de remordimientos, sin preocuparme por las opiniones de quienes en realidad, nunca han estado conmigo... La fuerza interna es vital, y el amor propio puede guiarte hacia ella.
warnings: unhealthy habits, mentions of feeling numb and angry
a/n: having a mighty shit week and i scribbled this down when i was having a mighty shit time so i thought i’d clean this up and post it,,,,although there is supposed to be more to this with gahyeon,,,,also probably filled with mistakes sorry ;-;
Today was going to be another long day in a week of long days. You could feel it, even before you pulled off your blanket to let the sunlight hit your closed eyelids.
Dragging your hands down your face, you tried to rub away the exhaustion but with no success. Even pushing your body out of your bed seemed to be a struggle. If it were possible—if it were allowed—you would choose to stay in bed the whole day. Turn off your phone, leave the emails unread, forbid all contact and lock yourself in your cramped studio. It was a feeling deep in your bones, the desire to block the entire world out and imagine that it was only you truly existing in the world. Perhaps time would pause, nature would still and people would disappear and maybe you could breathe a little.
Unreachable and untethered, maybe then you could truly be alone, truly be free.
But that was not the case. You had chores to do, classes to attend, and assignments to complete.
Sighing, you threw your legs over the edge of the mattress. The first thing your bleary eyes notice is your messy desk. Your laptop still open, the screensaver bouncing and barely hitting corners. Textbooks as thick as your arm were stacked to the side, some wide open and covered with sticky notes and unfinished flashcards. Highlighters of all colours imaginable were strewn across lined sheets, illegible writing squeezed everywhere, even into the margins. Topic-focused mind maps and hand-drawn diagrams were taped high onto the wall as far as your arm could reach. Between them, just where your sightline would fall was your calendar, hastily cut to only show the last month of the semester. Course codes and assessment titles and bright red markings covered every inch, reminding you that you have no time at all. Very soon, another semester will be completed.
You let out another sigh.
Freshen up, first, just brush your teeth. At the moment it was easier thought than done.
The moment light flickered on in your bathroom, you turned to the mirror and had the great displeasure of perceiving your unruly state. Horrid thoughts fluttered past your mind, the awful impulse to bring down your fist so it covered your bathroom with mirror shards. Instead, you just stared at your reflection; lifeless eyes sinking deep into blemished pallid skin, a prominent frown carved so deep it would soon become your default expression.
The first thought that flitted into your mind was: you need to eat better! Every diet plan and meal hack your mother had sent came hurtling back to you. The thought made you want to chuckle because to eat better you’d have to eat first.
Ignoring this train of thinking altogether, you completed the minuscule task of brushing your teeth. Splashing yourself with cold water, you let it bring you back to the ground. You had to complete your essay, you only had a thousand more words left. If you could complete it today, you would buy yourself some time. You will finish this essay today, and you won't eat until you submit it.
You marched to your desk with newfound determination, already typing in your password into your laptop as you settled down, making sure to disregard the state of your desk. The document was already opened and you began. Though you didn’t last very long.
Around two hundred words in, you looked over your references again. The ideas were disjointed and underdeveloped, but no problem, you will have to just find a few articles that support your claim. Sentences were repeating, you weren’t adding anything new, perhaps returning to the source material would help. Reading what you had just typed out, you could barely make sense of it. Frustration began to seep in, as you read the question, broke it down to specific points, and then read it again. Wanting to rewrite the two hundred words you had, you began editing, yet nothing came to your mind. Your eyes could see the words on the screen, and your mind could comprehend that these were words because you could read them… yet once they were processed, there was nothing.
A pretentious font in an unreadable size, all in depthless black atop a harsh white screen. The sight allowed a migraine to bloom by your right temple. When you placed a palm to your face, you felt just how warm you had gotten and as you blinked white spots flitted across your vision. Only when you opened your mouth to take in air a little faster did you realize that you’d been clenching your jaw hard enough to grind your teeth against each other.
You needed to eat something quick, anything!
It was a terrible idea to push up from your desk so hurriedly because another wave of dizziness hit. You stumbled but made your way to your kitchen sink, panting as you took in its shape. The piles of unwashed dishes overflowed and grime-filled counters were littered with takeout containers. Any thought of eating vanished and was replaced with self-loathing. How could you let your kitchen get to this condition?
You had to lean onto the kitchen counter, forehead nearly bumping into the cupboard above. Both hands gripping the edge sp your legs buckle underneath you.
You couldn’t let go now.
Tears seemed to begin lining the bottom of your eyes when a hurried knock came on your door. In an instant, you straightened. The desire to pretend to be alright trumped the insurmountable exhaustion you felt. Patting down your hair and flattening your pyjama shirt, you approached the door, very much expecting your resident advisor. Only he could wake up so early.
Taking a deep, wavering breath, you put on the best smile you could afford, very much expecting your resident advisor. Only he could wake up so early. But when you opened your door, you were met by your friend.
Wooyoung flashed his pearly white teeth in a blinding smile, waving a plastic cover by his face. “Good afternoon!”
“Afternoon?” was all you could get out before Wooyoung forced himself into your home. “No, no, wait! My room is a mess!”
Completely unbothered, Wooyoung removed his shoes and headed straight for the small dining table at the far right of your room, desolate with unuse. “You missed your morning class today, Sangie told me.”
Yeosang hated it when Wooyoung called him Sangie, the thought made you smile for a moment. A genuine one.
“He said he called you,” you were reaching for your phone instantly. Wooyoung was right, it was well past afternoon and beneath the time were almost a dozen missed calls from Yeosang.
Worried texts from Yeosang and then Wooyoung appear at your door with a mysterious package. “Hold on, you didn’t—!”
“No, I didn’t just make seaweed soup for you. Yunho was craving some earlier, so I decided I’d bring you some leftovers,” he said, taking a stainless steel container out of the bag. Leftovers do not need a container so large. “I knew you would skip your meals, so thought I’d drop by before work.”
With a quick sweep of your table and dragging your chair by your study desk to the small table, he set your meal.
“Are you going to the class in the evening?” Wooyoung asked, although completely ignoring your being as he headed straight for the sink to wash some spoons. You couldn't stop him if you tried, so you just let him be.
“No, I don’t think so,” was all you mumbled as you texted back Yeosang, relaying him the same information. He replied in an instant, ensuring that it was indeed him who panicked and asked for Wooyoung to check on you.
“Sit down,” Wooyoung ordered, as he dried the spoon with a tissue. It was best not to go against your condition, so you did as he said. Dropping the spoon into the container, all he said was, “Eat!”
Looking up at him through your lashes, you chuckled at him. Wooyoung with his hands on his hips and bundled up in his hoodie, waited for you to eat. Once you took your first sip, the tension from your muscles was released. Happy to see you eat, Wooyoung ignored your cries and whisked away to do your dishes quickly.
Before you knew it, you had dropped the spoon and downed the thing with only dregs left. It was strange how a home-cooked meal could actually energize you. Wooyoung only smiled proudly before pulling out another container from his bag, you hadn’t even noticed.
“This is dinner,” he patted the container before pushing it towards you. For a moment, he just stared at you. With a quick scan complete, he nodded. “Can I hug you?”
When you agreed, his arms were already around you. His hoodie provided a warm cushion for your head as he held you in a crushing embrace. The tears you forced to disappear before his arrival made their appearance again. Strangely they spilt, instead, your throat only burned ready to wail any moment yet never allowed you to. Those horrid thoughts from earlier, things you didn’t know why your mind was coming up with, rushed back to you, even in this moment of comfort. And as if knowing your innermost turmoil, Wooyoung nuzzles his chin into the top of your crown, that was when you wrapped your arms around him.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” With a gentle kiss to your temple, he began to pull away. “Let me or Yeosang know if you need anything else.”
Wooyoung only let you go when you nodded. With one last parting pat, he was already putting on his shoes and headed out your door.
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n: no grade is more important than your health, if anyone needs to hear it, here it is. i need it tattooed into my retinas. so drink some water, eat some food, and take a break. probably will finish the gahyeon part later and post it, hope everyone has a good day/night !
Một con chim đậu được trên cành cây, không phải vì con chim ấy tin vào cành cây mà nó tin vào đôi cánh của chính mình. Nhưng anh thì không, anh không tin vào đôi cánh của chính mình, anh không tin vào bản thân anh. Anh sợ rơi vào tình yêu, sợ đắm chìm, sợ đánh mất, sợ vỡ vụn.
Mà anh thấy đấy, từng mảnh vụn, từng mảnh đều là em.
