Dreaming boys

★Hole in the ice💌

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I was on the top step of the podium, feeling great. Even my mom allowed herself to be proud of me that day. I had won gold at the national men's figure skating competition. Everyone was there for me, and I realized that all the efforts had paid off and that if I hadn't listened to my mother, I wouldn't have gotten where I did.

I loved ice skating; feeling free as I sped across the ice was definitely my favorite sensation because I could escape from everything and everyone. But for my mom, only the medals mattered, and for years and years, she kept making me train every day, all day, until exhaustion. Often, after practice, I couldn't move anymore, but she didn't care; she said that if I did that, I would never win first place and never be the best. I had no friends, and my grades at school were terrible. If I made friends, she was quick to drive them away because she perceived them as distractions. Even my dad left because of her. He didn't agree; when I started competing, I was 11 years old. I was still a child. At first, he thought there was nothing wrong with it, in fact, he was proud of me, but for my mom, it had become an obsession: she projected herself onto me and tried to make me reach where she had never reached.

My mother, the woman who should love me unconditionally, was still there with me for ice skating, and because of her, even that feeling of freedom vanished. She was constantly angry. Every little mistake I made, she punished me. It was becoming a nightmare, but I couldn't quit ice skating.

Now that I've won gold, I can't even stop training. I have to get to the world championships, I have to show my mom that she didn't waste her time.

Sometimes, I find myself in bed thinking and sometimes I even cry. I wish my mother were proud of me every day, that she would say "I love you," and even if I made a mistake, she would say "Don't worry, you'll make it." The truth? After my victory, she said, "You could have done better"... then she moved on to lecturing and giving recommendations for next year's nationals.

Now, in addition to training, I also had interviews and had to appear on shows. Was I tired? Was I sick? It didn't matter, my career came first. For her, I wasn't a son, a person, a boy who, despite his young age, had won gold at the nationals, but an object she used to achieve her goal and happiness. No one thought about my happiness, and after using an object too much, it ended up breaking.

While other kids were learning to walk, I had already learned to ice skate. It took 16 years to build, my whole life, and 5 minutes to destroy.

All the news was talking about me: "The young gold-winning skater Kwak Jiseok got injured during the world championships qualifications." I felt empty, my mom didn't even look at me. My career was about to take off, but there was a system error, and the rocket imploded, killing everyone. Killing the only thing that kept me standing, besides the competitions: my right leg. I could no longer walk normally, let alone return to the ice.

The career of Kwak Jiseok ended like this, and so did the unstable relationship between him and his mother. "The fallen prince of the ice" was my name on the internet.

I was physically and mentally ill, I had no support from anyone. The insults from my mom were constant. For some reason, the razor made me feel better. I was left alone; no one cares about a falling star that doesn't shine.

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