CYPHER | BTS

01: CHERRY PIE

- O N E -

January 01, 2017
Sunday

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Choi June

"Three, two, one! Happy new year!"

Another year, another waste of my twenty years of life.

I'll be honest, I never thought I would live past eighteen. I guess the world has had other plans for me, because I was so sure I'd die before I could enter the world of adults.

It's pathetic, really. I try, and I try, and I try, never once looking back and reminding myself of just who I would be leaving. They just don't matter to me. Not like they used to.

I'm alone.

Bomi is my best friend, cousin, and roommate all in one. But she has her boyfriend.

Jay is my younger brother. But he has his friends.

My mom has her boyfriend and her own twin boys.

My dad has his wife and his own daughter.

I am so fucking alone.

And I don't know what to do.

It's a constant ache in my chest that I can't seem to rid of. It's like a parasite, eating away at my feelings and numbing them. I don't know how to love anymore, I don't know the meaning of this life I live any longer. I'm so fucking broken, and I'm so fucking done.

I've spent so long trying to find something that I could possibly grasp onto for reassurance, just so I wouldn't feel so alone anymore. I don't need help, I don't need pity, or sympathy, or therapy, no. I don't need to be fixed, I just need to sit in the dark with an angel.

An angel...

Tonight, I stand under the stars on new years night, praying to the sky to send me an angel before I say fuck it, and just commit to the one thing I've been fearing for so long. I'm just so done.

Even though I'm over this pathetic excuse of a life, I don't find a single fiber in me to cry. No shaky feeling, no erratic breaths, no pounding heart. I'm standing on the ledge of a rooftop building, and I'm completely fine. I'm not scared, and honestly...

That's concerning.

I'm grasping onto this notion that the heavens will send me some kind of sign that prevents me from making this permanent choice. It's a huge fucking stretch, but I'll hold on for a little longer in hopes that they do.

I'll give them five fucking minutes, and if I don't have my sign, I am jumping off this damn building.

The heavens piss me off. In no way am I religious, but I hold onto the idea that there is some form of spiritual entity in the sky that I could pray to for guidance and reassurance. Sounds pretty religious to me, but I'm not so sure I count it. It's not like I pray every night, or before every meal. I only do it when it can benefit me.

They don't grant me shit, though. When I pray, I'm met with silence and no change. I know desperation has hit me deep when I find myself praying, because the only person who could truly find change in me, is myself.