Death Switch | KTH ✓

Douze.

Ever so often, I would scour the thoughts of deep remorse and unbound regret, wishing with a feebly aching heart, if only I could undo what I had done that spring—that awful spring night, wishing I could change my decision that I had made while strolling under the dusky canvas, covering the long distance from Oh Minhee's house to the way back my little abode. My emotions that night were scattered like uncontrolled rolling marbles, the shame inside me heaving like a sea during high tide and my soul shrieking from inside.

Those salty waters like a heavy waterfall that fell from my eyes that twilight was of deep befuddlement and helplessness of a miserable fellow who was lost in the indiscernible labyrinth of life.

That ominous night, no stars shining above my head in the conjured blackness, convinced me that nothing would behold the barbarism of life for it weighed far heavier than one could expect as it implored for one's undying confidence and strength which were the areas I, unfortunately, lacked supremely, enormously and so be that as it may, I had surmised that the world is fake, with fake barbarisms, fake reality, fake promises, and the list would go on to infinity.

I was deserted.

None had told me that if though these awful aspects of life existed, so did the good ones.

So under the enveloped dusk, strangled with suffocating feelings, bloodshot eyes had run out of tears, and my mind blurred like the morning fog as I had flung a rope on the beautiful cherry blossom tree in the backyard of my house.

Painless for a minute. Painful for eternity.

One flick.

One flick, the death switch turned off and my woeful life ended just like that.

I regretted it.

It was the guiltiest decision I had ever taken in my mournfully unexciting life and I had reckoned so the moment I was told by that fellow, a witty man, standing before me who had woken me up from my deep slumber that I, or perhaps my soul, couldn't leave this world for I had committed an unforgivable sin though it could be repented if I assisted a helpless loner like me so I had been wandering since then.

However, this soul-wandering shit wasn't what had thoroughly shaken me; it was the aftermath of my death that had the guilt flooding inside me like an incessant river. With no better option, the next day I had paid a visit to my house as a dead and found out that the police had been dragging my body away as if I was just a bag of trash that needed to be thrown away; they were taking my body for an autopsy. A foot away from them were the Parks; Mr. and Mrs. Park were wailing, each time Mrs. Park shook with a wave of grief, Mr. Park held her tight in his arms, rubbing her back as he sniffed himself.

"He was like our son," had said he.

"No, he is our son."

Mr. and Mrs. Park's words had cut deep into my heart though at the same time poured a sense of relief that they considered me as their son, just like Jimin.

Jimin.

My eyes had searched my friend Jimin desperately but I found him nowhere in sight. He had wanted to remain alone, locked up in my room. He had stayed there for days, struck by a tsunami of misery and pain, admiring my stuff, calling me and I had persisted vulnerable yet again for I was there before him, yet he couldn't see me, feel me; I was a soul.

He was the best friend I could ever ask for.

And I lost him.

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A/n:

Never believe that you're not loved. The world is too small and your heart is big enough to pull everyone in with just a smile on your face.