![]() ![]() It was something that’d happened already and something that still had the chance to happen again. He was standing alone on top of the observation platform at the sea. When I did this, my surroundings morphed into a red afterimage, and I saw Taehyung. I was overwhelmed with vertigo when I stood up. Sunlight shined through the open curtain. A quote was written underneath it, “Everything started here.” Seokjin 11 April YEAR 22 It was April 11th again when my eyes opened. It was in the middle of the left wall surrounded by other names. I read over the names and found my father’s. He was someone who believed attending the same schools maintained a family’s dignity. Were there students like us? Would they receive punishments for being late and missing class? Were there mercilessly violent teachers and never ending exams and coursework? Were there teachers who’d tell principals about their students and their friends? I wondered whether my father’s name lied among the words. It’d be filled when school began and emptied during vacations. This classroom hadn’t always been a storage room. “Pass or die,” the names of unrequited love, dates, and countless names that had become worn and illegible. The walls and ceiling were covered in it too. I didn’t notice this before, but the windowsill was covered with scattered writing. I placed it back on the windowsill so only the ‘H’ is visible again. Hoseok was the only dongsaeng who’d bring a flowerpot here. When I lifted it up I read ‘Hoseok’s flowerpot.’ I laughed. I noticed an ‘H’ written below the flowerpot when I approached. I pondered this often - how a photo never captures what eyes can. The photo I took on my phone didn’t come out good, and it wasn’t because I simply took it with a phone. ![]() The classroom was always dark with shadows since there wasn’t any electricity, but I could still distinguish green leaves from the pale light coming from the windows. Which of my dongsaeng brought it? I took out my phone. Seokjin 25 June YEAR 19 A lone flowerpot rested on the storage room’s window. Staring back at me were pale lips, a frail face, thin shoulders. I lifted my head and looked at my reflection in the window. ![]() As I swept my hair back, all the hours I spent trying to mold myself into someone else slipped through my fingers. I left onto the street and took my hat off. No matter how terrible things become, only by being true to myself can I continue to move forward. I know now that the me that is incapable and makes mistakes and fails is still a part of myself. But just like how a person can’t end a sentence without it being complete, the me who I lost couldn’t improve and instead wandered around the same places. Wouldn’t my real self be discovered? Wouldn’t she be disappointed and leave me? Desperately, I hid and turned away from myself. The more I tried to be someone else the more frightened I became. I thought that following the words from the diary would help me do so. ![]()
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