RUTH❌

52. the tRUTH (FINALE)

July 7, 2018

1:00 p.m.

Somewhere in Seoul, South Korea

JENNIE POV

2 months later...

We weren't innocent.

The middle English word derives from the Old French and Latin language; as an adjective, meaning to be free of moral wrong, and to not be guilty of a crime or offense, and as a noun, meaning a pure, guileless, or naive person. Either way, I tell no lies.

We weren't innocent. We recognized that throughout this whole journey.

We had to, I had to. It was the only way I could walk across that stage and be courageous enough to turn on that mic without feeling like the guiltiest soul on the planet.

We weren't innocent, none of us were, and I made peace with knowing this.

"Is there anything else you would like to say?"

It took a while for my mind to come back to the present and accept that I was in the spotlight again; the flashing lights played a huge role in that.

Forty-five minutes ago, there weren't any flashes. There were many eyes on me, staring right into my healing soul. Several cameras were dancing in the background, but no flashes. Many in the large crowd anticipated what I was going to say and how I was going to say it.

I studied the pool of expressions. Some of them couldn't fathom how someone lived each day seeing the worst of society in the mirror. Maybe the rest of them had compassion and empathy for the nervous girl on stage, knowing no one could have signed up for this, it's just what they became.

But regardless, somewhere in Seoul, South Korea, everyone was interested in my story. Everyone wanted to know the 'why' and 'how' behind the statement: we weren't innocent.

I tried explaining it. I emphasized that I never meant to be difficult to impress. I didn't pick this particular pickiness. It's the genes, I tell you. Or it could be the moths that are constantly in my stomach—not pretty enough to be butterflies. It's like they're sedated or possibly bound up in cocoons, forcing me to be an absolute mess maker; one bad choice after another.

Yet, karma caught up to me in the form of something called life, and it humbled me quickly.

I wrote down the main points in my speech in May. Some of that I said, most of it,

I did not bother.

The highlight of my segment was when images of deceased peers, classmates, friends, and teachers that were all lost this year graced the projectors all around the stadium. What hurt the most was seeing my friends and my teacher, but it also felt good to feel like I was doing them one last favor before I let them rest in peace.

At the end, I received a standing ovation, but I do not think it was for my words, or for opinions about me that I know lean towards the negative. It was only for the courage that got me on the stage, and for the courage that allowed my lips to move and say at least one word of substance.

"Anything else, Jennie Kim?"

The interviewers were huddled like paparazzi, trying to be more invasive just like paparazzi. They would not let me go even though I refused to be cooperative in this post-ceremony interview.

I felt my heart beat a million miles per hour. So many flashy cameras remained in my face and to my right. I glanced to my left and saw a whole line of peers waiting for their turn to be interviewed. There was nowhere to move or breathe unless I answered.