damaged | yoonmin

1.

Tears falling down the cheek leaving paths behind.

An almost unheard sniffing.

Truly heartbreaking sight of a woman sitting on the ground by the white cold wall covering whole face with her wounded but still beautiful hands.

He wanted to show himself from behind the door. He wanted to stand up and tell her that it's his fault and he's sorry for saying all those hurting words. He wanted to assure her that everything will be fine from that moment, even if it was surely a lie.

But he couldn't.

He knew that no one could help him. No one understood how harsh was God for him when he decided to give him life. What was the point of giving life to someone who can't do simple things from the very beginning? Who will never be able to walk, run, work? Who will sat on the wheelchair to the end of his miserable life?
Because that's how Yoongi's life always looked like.

Of course, he was aware that he isn't the only one on the Earth with such problems and that he should simply get used to it. His poor mother wasn't to blame for who he is but he still couldn't help himself from spilling only hate talk towards her. Countless times, he saw and heard his mother, Yoonji, giving up holding a sharp knife just too close to her wrists and crying. She didn't have a single thought that her son might've been crying with her at those times. He kept all his true feelings on the back of his heart and mind not to show people that he's as weak on the inside as he is on the outside.

Weak, defensless, miserable.

It was just better for people to see the bad in him only.

Every day looked the same. The same bright white ceiling and the same grey curtains covering a big window with a view on the whole city. Every single day, his mother was waking him up at exactly 7am because that was what he wanted from unknown reason. Because why would an invalid with nothing to do, want to get up that early? The answer was simple yet nobody had ever a chance to know it.

The only thing that was making him happier at some point was looking outside the big, clean window at the city on every stage of "life" as he liked to thought: birth, full life and death.

He believed that every day is like a human. Mornings were the busiest. Sun was rising up, people were going out to get to work through crowded streets.
Afternoons were more peaceful, sun was on its highest place giving hope to everyone, that was the longest period of the day.
Evenings were the saddest. Moon was replacing sun, throwing shadow on hope and happiness. Streets were becoming more crowded again but it wasn't as full of life as it was on the morning. Everything was dying in dark colours, only some lanterns were giving the night a little bit of a left hope.

He could just look on the world outside all day, contempling warm sunlight and later falling down into deep melancholy and grief at night. He got used to staying quiet his whole life, screaming on the inside. Only sometimes when someone wanted to break his barriers he was breaking and showing off his worst thoughts and demons. Demons that darkened his heart and soul so that he could never love or be loved by anybody.

Was there a way out of this?