05. Come and Hug Me

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05: Come and Hug Me Act 1, scene 5

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05: Come and Hug Me
Act 1, scene 5

As told by Jungkook

        I DON'T RESIST when I feel the darkness that was suspended above the sky to crawl out of the atmosphere and engulf me in a hug. At least the sky that draped the color ebony was the same shade as always, and always at the same time as well. Early in the morning. Early in the morning, I would be engulfed by the sky in such loneliness and coldness that I have nothing else to do but to be embraced for a mere second before tears surge out of my glassy red eyes. But when I'm released, no thoughts would form in my mind except for an image of an alternate universe in which I'm not leaning against the abandoned junkyard, high.

        I don't know why I'm doing this.

        Maybe because I wanted to be another number, another statistic of a child whose train of hopes and dreams fell off the tracks because of the excuse of traumatic events. For I must make myself of something, for if I don't, I will be nothing more. Or maybe because I wanted to be hugged from no other sky at one in the morning, but the substitution of a hug in which I desperately crave for will never balance out. Maybe I'm nothing but a pathetic loser, drowned in nothing but loneliness. Maybe I crave for something for my lips to meet.

        I snuggle my hand in my sweatshirt to get my phone out. The brightness blinds me a second, before reading the time: 1:17. I sigh, immediately shoving it back into my article of clothing. My level of impatience was increasing rapidly by second. I felt my body be set on fire unknowingly, as my fingers begin to curl and uncurl. It was days like these when it was bad. Days in which I wanted to forget, forget the predicament in which I myself had placed myself in and so that I can feign a smile, pretend that everything present in front of me is okay. I want to desperately be okay, just for a little while.

        I stare into the horizon, bored out of my mind, for now. The liter of rusty cars piles up with dented license plates on the back. Sometimes, we attempt to guess the plate's number, and other times, we go digging for the unknown. For every time we go out there, we have an undiscovered source of faith running throughout our veins, a different kind of drug. We hope from this dosage that we find something incredible enough to take a turn in our lives. However, the only thing we would usually find is dented cans and fake rusty rings.

        As I sat there alone, in the midst of my feelings, the sound of heavy footsteps comes audible to my ears. My shaking and pale hands tighten further around my legs in return from the sound. Not many people knew or discovered the abandoned junkyard off the edge of town, and I would like to keep the title of it the same. For this place is my second home when I want my thoughts to have the courage to jump out of that frazzled brain of mine and continue on its research and discovery of my true identity. Or maybe it's just me attempting to convince myself that I have worth, that underneath the layers of skin in which I bear, I'm more than just a statistic. I'm more than just a young man perched near against the building of an abandoned junkyard craving to be high.

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