Golden Boy

Jungkook was perfect. He was what everyone wanted to be, everyone was attracted to his kind personality, his bright smiles. They envied is perfect grades, his endless knowledge and wisdom. They took picture of his beautiful art, the kind that made you stop and think.They admired his athleticism, his excellence in every sport, his physical strength, his insane speed and agility. They were surprised by the multiple language he spoke fluently. They gushed over his breathtaking looks, his symmetrical face, soft fluffy hair and large doe eyes. They applauded at his angelic voice, cheered at his graceful dancing. They wondered how he was so perfect, but no one saw the truth. No one realized that the Golden Boy was not as golden as he seemed. He was just a scared child, hiding behind a mask, trying to protect himself. A child who carried the weight of a broken family, of the shell of the woman he used to call Mom, he carried the weight of a father who deserted them, a brother who chose death. No one saw the small broken child with heavy weights on his trembling shoulders. They saw his golden mask but no one knew of the nights he spent at his mother's bedside, staying awake to nurse her through withdrawal, silently taking the cruel words and harsh blows. They saw the lively paintings of life and beauty, but no one saw his true masterpiece, every slice of the blade, every carving, an intricate design, traced in silver, stained with red. No one saw. And maybe, just maybe that's what kept the Golden Boy sane.