Back to the start line - Minsung

1.2 Be my first

Good afternoon, Mrs. Han. I would like inform you about your son, Jisung. As his teacher – – I am a bit concerned about him.

During the latest lesson – – I couldn't help but notice these cuts and scars on his wrists.

He also left a notebook of his on his desk yesterday by accident – – I was supposed to return to him today.

I wasn't meant to be nosy and look into it – – I couldn't help but notice something that caught my eye.

The texts in there – – worrisome and depressive – – He is one of my best students – – hardworking and loyal – – He has seemed okay.

You should talk to your son and ask him – – topics such as suicidal thoughts – – if Jisung has history with depression etc. – – it's remarkably important that he gets help.

There is a psychologist – – I can give you her number.

My condolences – – I wish you a pleasant rest of the year.

~~~

Here you go, some more of the way too deep thoughts of mine which make me feel real stupid:

I wish to die.

All my life, I have been living for others and unawares I have lost myself. At times I feel unfeeling, ungrateful and selfish. I may be. However, every goal I reach, every aim I struggle for, isn't out of ambition and confidence.

I don't know what else to do but keep battling in this never-ending game. A game of respecting, obeying and trying.

Trying gets harder the more you fail. By now, I've lost all my dreams, my will to keep on going.

It's unfair.

My mother never wanted me, never needed me. Still, she had me. She didn't get rid of me. I don't know whether to feel grateful or bitter. Sometimes the tired but genuine smile of her gets my hopes high so I can once again believe in better, brighter future. Sometimes I wish my mom would keep on with the beating for just a little longer so I would never wake up again once I fell unconscious.

My point of view is: the future isn't going to get any brighter, realistically speaking. I'm tired of believing in that.

I didn't ask to be here. Honestly? If I had the chance, I'd leave and never turn back.

But where would I go to? I have fucking nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to find my lost self.

Dying feels little but powerful. It feels like a getaway, a journey from where you'll never return.

It feels like the only option out of here.

Moreover, the pain that comes with it doesn't even feel bad. I've felt worse.

I wish to die.

I know people wish for that as well, to me.

I'm used to acting like the lack of a father figure has never really bothered me. Bullshit. Of course, I have been wondering and pondering.

Who is my father? Why doesn't mom never mention him and if she does, she only degrades him, with malicious words dripping toxin.

Was he really that bad? That horrible of a person?

Am I really beginning to resemble my father?

I might never meet the mysterious man and I might never get answers for my questions. I haven't dared ask mom about him either. Certainly, as a kid, I asked all kinds of dumb questions which do sound reasonable for me now. However, mom never gave a thorough answer.