A Meadow of Sorrow - Hyunchan

The Colour Red

Hyunjin likes when the house is empty. He can do what he likes when he's the only one there. From playing music obnoxiously loud in the living room to lazing around in his bedroom without being disturbed for meals. He loves when the house is his and only his.

But what he doesn't like is how things get too loud. He doesn't mean when music is playing full blast or when some recycled romance drama he's seen a thousand times is blaring on the tv. No. It's not any of that. It's his head. It gets too loud.

Everyone has thoughts. Of course they do. That's just how humans work. But Hyunjin feels imprisoned by his own mind, tormenting whispers pour into the shell of his ear at the most opportune times, and that's when he starts to drown in madness.

It's like falling down a rabbit hole chasing white rabbits that are merely a figment of his imagination. He falls and falls and falls, never quite hitting the ground. Oh how he wishes he would hit the ground - have his brittle bones shatter and crimson blood paint the floor. Oh how wonderful that would be, an utterly delightful and tragic way to end it all. It's twisted romanticism at it's best.

When things get like this there's only ever one way for him to block it all out. His own thoughts that is - how he wishes they would all be quiet. And of course it's not in any way shape or form the most ideal solution but it works and that's all that matters to Hyunjin. That's all that matters - and who cares if he regrets it later on. Who fucking cares?

His life has been full to the brim with regrets so far anyway, what does it matter if he adds to them all. His whole life is a waiting forfeit. It's all meaningless. That's right. Life is meaningless.

Hyunjin has the most fucked up relationships with things he shouldn't, mostly the endless scars littering his body like resentful reminders of the lost person he is. It's like his brain doesn't know what normal is. He crumbles into a sobbing mess every other day, barely being able to build himself back up when his smile is needed for the rest of the world. He doesn't know what is making him hold on. He doesn't know anything.

He takes to the bathroom with his blade already in hand, the piece of dastardly metal feeling at home in his palm. It's so simple, so effortless, so easy , to slip into these god-awful habits. Hyunjin closes his eyes as he slides down the gelid tiled wall and sits on the floor, a shuddering sigh passing over his bitten lips. It's cold, freezing actually. Oh how the world has lost all its warmth, all it's colour, everything that made it worth staying alive.

He looks up into the mirror. He doesn't recognise the person he's become...and maybe that's a good thing.

Hwang Hyunjin why are you still here? the mirror whispers to him.

He doesn't know. He really really doesn't know.

He stares at his own skin in disdain, desperate to tear it all off and rebuild himself from nothing. And he would if he had the chance - it's not exactly like anybody cares. Nobody has ever cared.

God, Hyunjin is always trying his best, he's always trying to give what he can. He's struggling. Why can't anyone see that he's struggling? Hasn't he given enough?

Every day, every single fucking day, Hyunjin starts to lose sight of reality. It's like his own head, his own mind, his own thoughts are going out of their way to convince him to let go. To stop. To leave.

He wishes he was dead.

Oh how Hwang Hyunjin wishes he was dead.

And isn't that a terribly awful thing to wish for?

But he does - he longs for his death and nobody will ever be able to change that. He fantasises about it constantly, always wandering around with his head stuck in clouds. Nobody will ever be able to change the way he is. They can't change his thoughts, his feelings, his desperation to end it all and paint pretty white tiles red.