Spring Day 轉; knj + ksj

Choices

The magic of one performance lingered in my mind throughout my boring days. I'd sit in class and my mind would wander off about that day. Sometimes I'd feel inspired and I'd start scribbling lyrics in my notebook and whenever I could, I would listen more and more to hip hop. I felt like I was living a double life, accumulating secrets behind my parents' back. I used to welcome my mom's occasional intrusion to bring me some late night snacks for studying, but these days I'd panic and hide my notebook of lyrics and musical notes in my drawer. Then I'd pretend to study and flip open another section of the textbook.

My behaviour, of course, led to my grades dropping by a few percentages. Some teachers even asked me to speak to them after school and I just lied that I was feeling a bit tired. I'd make up for my grades soon. Ironically, I did better in Mr. Lim's class. My last poem I had submitted for him ended up being my highest grade that I had achieved for the term. When I received that grade from him, I remembered my mouth gaping.

"Is there something troubling you?" Mr. Lim asked upon handing back my assignment.

"N-No," I stammered, "of course not."

This poem had been written last minute because I had been too busy practicing for the show. I had written this piece the night after our performance. There had been this surge of inspiration that evening, which led me to write about the feeling of confusion regarding my future and the temptation that lay ahead of me. I still didn't have the answer to my question. Was music only a hobby? If so, why did I feel like it was taking over my life? I was starting to breathe and live for music. I could barely motivate myself to flip open a textbook.

How many people could live off of music, I wondered. Would I be content being a street performer? How could I do that to my family when they had given me so much?

These conflicting questions kept pestering my mind, yet I couldn't stop myself from touching music. I began to find places where I could rap and soon enough, I met many other people like Marvel J, i11evn, DJ Snatch, Supreme Boi, Kyum2, Samsoon, ILLIPS and Kidoh and we even started our own crew called DaeNamHyup (DNH). I'd often perform alongside with them during the weekends and we'd only rap. There was no dancing like the other time or any vocals, just pure rap, and I really enjoyed that.

As I grew closer to this crew, I became more removed at school with Choa, Momo, and Jin. I only saw Jin for tutoring sessions and we barely talked about anything other than English. I also lost contact with Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook. When I still attended cram school every now and then, I took a seat in the far corner, away from Hoseok. I felt like after that night, all of us had changed. The idea of splitting up and going our separate routes was ingrained in our minds because we knew that we couldn't survive as a group then. It wasn't that I didn't think about them and I had a feeling that they'd remember me too. It was just that we were lacking in many ways, which I soon discovered after surrounding myself with the other rappers I met. They taught me how to breathe properly, how to enunciate my words, how to make beats, and more.

I thought I'd keep going on with this underground scene till I graduated until one day, after school, I saw this older man in his late forties to early fifties, waiting at the school gates and gazing at me. He was quite tall and reminded me a bit of a big teddy bear with his round body and face. I was expecting him to have a deep, stern voice, yet he spoke in an opposite manner, soft and high, "Excuse me . . . but did you and your group perform at a club a week ago?"

"Yes . . ." I uttered.

"This must be yours."

He reached into his black blazer pocket and handed me my student card. This was something that had been missing and I thought all hope was lost. I even registered for a new one even though I had lost this student card two months ago. The secretary at the office was not pleased and told me that if I were to lose another one again, I'd be charged money.