𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 | wheesa ✓

30 | she's trying

oh wow did we just hit lucky number 30

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

One could only be strong for so long,
before it all would come full circle,
and it'd hurt to even cry,
because all you can feel is
nothing.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Hyoyeon's house felt different. Actually, everywhere felt different to Wheein𑁋even just stepping outside, or just heading outside of her bedroom felt odd. Each moment felt dreadful, each action felt like a chore, each step felt tiring.

It hasn't been long since the last visit to Hyoyeon's home, but to Wheein, it seemed like it's been years. Because it was as if the recent memories in her head had been clouded away, and she could only recall the visits she had here when she was younger with her mother. She remembered bringing those sketchbooks for little kids each visit, where she'd find herself sprawled atop the woman's couch and notice that each object she'd see in her preadolescent eyes would be a source of inspiration for her. She found value in those simple objects. And at the time, she didn't know why; perhaps, it was just the way her eyes worked. That's what her mother told her at least.

But now, that gift seemed to have disappeared for her. Her eyes would be found staring down at the blank page in her sketchbook, her pencil would only create a singular grey dot in the middle of the page, and her mind would go blank. If one could explain, Wheein felt almost completely numb. She doesn't exactly the remember the last words that had came out of her mouth ever since the night her grandmother passed away. She's back to that old habit again: not speaking, because even saying one word would overwhelm her. Even saying one word would be terrifying as she'd be scared of saying something wrong.

Wheein finds her hands flipping through the pages of her sketchbook, landing at the very beginning of the book. Only a scoff would leave her mouth as she sees that the very first drawing she had drawn would be a rose, how corny. Yet her face softens, wondering how much of her free time and creativity she had poured into all of her drawings and art, how much dedication she actually had into pursuing something in art, or just being recognised one day.

Yet as her eyes practically burn a hole down into the page of her sketchbook, her fingers trail to the edge of the paper, before the sounds of a loud rip tore throughout Hyoyeon's living room, then silence takes over. It only took a moment to realise that she was alone in the house.

Wheein stills for a second, jaw dropping slightly to what she has done as her gaze continuously switches between the ripped paper in her hands to the drawing on the next page. Then her fingers let go of the paper, watching closely as it floated down to the ground like a feather.

She bites her bottom lip down harshly, her face scrunching into an expression of frustration as she tore the next paper away from her sketchbook: the drawing of two butterflies.

She rips the next one,

then the next one,

and the next one.

That was all she could to let out her pent up frustration, her anger to the world, and her anger to herself. God, it felt so good to do that even though it was so wrong, like a sin. She wanted to scream, she needed to scream, because there's just so much she wanted to let out of herself.

Her fingers only stop short of a particular drawing that makes her think longer than the previous ones. It was the drawing, the source, or even the origin of her growth that made her realise that it was okay to step out of her comfort zone. The drawing that made her see that it was possible for her to have feelings, to seek comfort into people, to love someone for the first time and for that same love to be reciprocated back for the first time.