𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀..... | 𝗷𝗶𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 |

am

jimin pov
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"Jimin!" She yelled my name making me flinch. I've not heard a word from my mother in a week yet here she is yelling at me.

"I'm fucking talking to you! Answer me dammit!" It really doesn't take much to know if a parent knows their child or not. If she knew me she'd know I can't respond. That I'm trying my hardest but answering her would give me a panic attack.

"A waste of fucking space if you ask me." She muttered before rolling her eyes and walking out of the freezing home. I don't know what made me think coming out of my room would be some type of beneficial for me.

"I- I- I-I'm s-sorry." I stuttered out to know one in particular. Maybe to the person I unintentionally angered that's making my life so hard to deal with. Maybe to myself. Maybe to my mother that thinks I'm such a disappointment.

I'm assuming after I left the school they called her and she was trying to talk to me about it. Which she never does. I came home after the emotionally exhausting day I was already having the and got screamed at.

Feeling clean usually helps to calm me down so I determined to bathe with my time. I walked quietly back to the comfort of my four bedroom walls and picked clothes out to wear. A white oversized shirt and sweatpants so I can't see how fat I look.

With tears already welling up in my eyes I walked in the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. This is the part that I can't stand. I can't handle looking at my own body. It makes me want to do things I promised I wouldn't. I promised him so I can't.

I took one quick glance at the wide, ugly figure in the mirror and a tear fell. At just one glance I hate everything I see. An ugly, fat, idiot that can't speak without sounding like dumbass. God I wish I could die. I wish I had a chance to start over and try again.

On March 17th 2016 I made a promise. I vowed to never kill myself, to never cut myself again and to never starve myself again. My brother, Park Jihun, made me promise that.

On March 18th 2016 my brother, Park Jihun, took his own life. He died and I made a promise to stay. I can't break that, even if it breaks me. I won't let him down. I couldn't and I will never know what he was going through but I wish he would've talked to me. I wish I would've reached out when I could. When I had the chance to. When he was still here.

I regret so much that I've done. And I've broken that promise before. I've cut again since then, I've starved myself and still do. But I won't kill myself. I can't.

I quickly looked away from the mirror as I was about to undress because even if I haven't really looked at my naked body in months. I don't want to. I can't go through that. My eyes poured out tears looking at the red slashes on my big thighs. I can't erase them, my broken promises. I can't help it either. If that's what it takes to make my life even somewhat bearable, I'll do it. I do anything just to feel alive. To feel existent.

The floor felt cold and the air was biting at my skin. I started the warm water for my bath and set out a towel and robe for myself. My pale skin finally coming into contact with the soothing water helped my relax. I melted into the tub as the warmth water consumed my body. It would be so easy to die right now. To just drown myself right now.

Every time I stop myself from impulsively killing myself a part of me dies. I think about how much easier my and everyone else's life would be if I didn't exist. How much happier they'd be. I'd be.

But it hadn't always been this hard for me. I haven't always been such a debby downer. My childhood wasn't all too bad. I grew up with a living family and a role model older brother. I was happy. Maybe I still got bullied and picked on but I didn't care. I had something better. I had family. I was happy with that. But when I lost the one thing that mattered to me the most, family, I no longer had a reason to live. I no longer had the desire to stay in such an awful world. I had no one to live for except Jihun and my parents.

I need a reason to feel alive again. I'm not living right now. I'm surviving until I can find the one thing that allows me to breathe again. To live again. But that's just wishful thinking. The type that I don't have much of so when I do it's scary. It's terrifying because I get hopeful. I start to imagine things I know very well won't happen. Like having a friend, maybe my parents being parents again, finding love. I chuckled at that one. Love, I hate it. I actually despise it because it's the reason for my despair.

I'm so sad because I don't love myself. I'm so sad because everything and everyone I loved is gone. Love doesn't deserve to be shown and flaunted around like it's some great thing. It's poisonous and dangerous. Love is a straight path to a broken heart.

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well.🤷‍♀️