A Year in Juvenile Detention : Carl Gallagher

Hopelessness

The days bled into weeks, and the silence surrounding Areum grew heavier. The vibrant energy that once defined her was now replaced by an oppressive quiet that seeped into her very bones. No one noticed at first; after all, she had always been the one to take the spotlight, to draw attention with her defiance and quick wit. But now, as she sat alone in her corner, the laughter and chatter of the other inmates felt like a distant echo, almost mocking her.

Areum's sketchbook had become her only refuge, but even that didn't bring her the solace it once had. Each stroke of her pencil felt hollow, a mere reflection of the thoughts swirling in her mind. Her drawings had shifted from vibrant depictions of chaos and rebellion to darker images that mirrored her internal struggle. Shadows loomed over her characters, their faces twisted in expressions of pain and despair.

Every time she glanced up, she felt the weight of judgment from the other girls who once adored her spirit. Their whispers drifted through the air, and she could almost hear the questions in their murmurs: "What happened to Areum?" "Why is she so different now?" She felt exposed, as if the walls of juvie had eyes that scrutinized her every move.

With each passing day, Areum battled an increasing sense of hopelessness. The walls of her mind felt like a prison, much like the one surrounding her. The vibrant girl who had thrived on chaos was slipping away, replaced by someone who felt trapped, tired, and utterly alone.

At night, when the lights dimmed and the world outside faded into silence, Areum's thoughts became a torrent she couldn't escape. The memories of the trouble she used to stir, the laughter she shared with her friends, now felt like cruel reminders of a life she could no longer grasp. The pressure mounted, and she found herself wondering if anyone would even care if she disappeared.

"Maybe they wouldn't even notice," she thought bitterly. The realization was suffocating.

Some days, the darkness felt so overwhelming that Areum found herself entertaining thoughts she never would have considered before. It was a terrifying dance with despair—a seductive whisper that promised relief from the pain she felt. The idea of ending it all loomed like a dark cloud over her, tempting her with an escape from the torment that had taken root in her mind.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to find some way to escape the heavy cloak of sadness that enveloped her. But the words stuck in her throat, the pain twisted deep inside her. All the chaos she had once thrived on felt foreign now; she could hardly recognize herself in the reflection of her own eyes.

Days blended into a haze of gray, and Areum often felt like she was floating through life, a ghost in her own existence. Each morning was a struggle to get out of bed, to face the world she felt increasingly disconnected from. She would sit in the common area, staring blankly at the walls, feeling the weight of isolation settle in her chest.

Carl's attempts to reach out had only served to deepen her sense of isolation. The moments when he tried to engage her felt like reminders of her own failure to connect with anyone. Each conversation that fell flat only added to her sense of worthlessness, and she began to believe that she was unworthy of friendship, of love, of anything at all.

Some nights, she would lie awake, tears streaming down her face, wishing for a way out. The darkness whispered lies to her, convincing her that her existence didn't matter, that no one would miss her if she were gone. Each thought felt like a heavy weight, pressing down on her chest until it became hard to breathe.

In the quiet moments when she thought about the end, she didn't envision a dramatic farewell or a heroic exit. It was a simple wish to be free from the pain, a longing for peace that felt forever out of reach. She imagined slipping away, fading into the shadows, finally escaping the noise in her head and the pain in her heart.

But a flicker of doubt would always creep in—a tiny voice that wondered if she truly wanted to give up. What if there was a chance for things to change? What if she could find a way back to the girl she used to be? It was a fragile hope, one that was easily drowned out by the more powerful voices of despair.

During therapy sessions, she sat in silence, avoiding eye contact with the therapist who tried to draw her out. Every question felt like an intrusion into a world she wanted to keep hidden. "What's bothering you, Areum?" "How do you feel?" Each inquiry made her want to crawl deeper into herself, to shut down completely.

Inside, she felt like a storm was raging, but she couldn't find the words to express it. Instead, she offered up generic responses, pretending that everything was fine while her insides twisted in agony.

"Just tired," she'd say. "Just trying to get through it." But inside, she felt like she was crumbling.