Oh My!

1. The way I feel is deep

Daehyun:

Growing up is a hard thing to do. We feel lost. We feel broken. We cry and scream. We whine and complain. The people around us push and push. We grasp for something..anything. Yet we find nothing. So we try to fill the void.

Alcohol, drugs, sex, cutting, eating too much or not eating enough. We workout or we completely shut down. The people around us don't try to help. Because they have there own problems. Because they too, are being scorned. Scorned, because they didn't do something right? Or because they want to be different from everyone else.

Even these so called "good kids". The ones who look like they have everything, are hurting. The world is full of pain and suffering. Yet, we are so accustomed to it. That it is normal. Normal to cut? Normal to starve? Normal to pass by that homeless man on the street, without giving him a second thought. Normal to hate yourself. Normal to have depression.

As long as there is a sense of normality. The world will never change. Trust me. I know.

Here I am. Alive and healthy. Watching as they lower my mother's casket into the ground. Watching as my father puts his arm around his new wife. Watching as they both have the audacity, to throw the first hand of dirt onto her heavenly white casket. Hand in hand they walk away. Sobbing can be heard all throughout the cemetery.

My mother had many friends. She was a kind and gentle person. She was always full of life and love. She appreciated almost everything. She was a once in a lifetime kind of person. I remember the first time they came to the adoption center. I was only six at the time.

They originally wanted a girl. Yet the moment we locked eyes, it was like my world had finally stopped spinning. She had spoken to me in a soft hushed tone. Asking for my name. It was right then, I knew I wanted to leave with her. I had never felt more secure and safe. Father had not taken a liking to me. Yet he wanted to fulfill mother's wishes. So they had adopted me.

Going through school was never difficult. People were always kind to me. And I never truly had any trouble with the curriculum. It wasn't until 3rd grade when I had gotten my first real friend, DQ. Well, at least that's what he had everyone call him. Though that's another story for another time.

After middle school, I was sent to a boarding school in Italy. My freshman and sophomore year had come and gone easily. The beginning of my junior year, my mother had fallen ill. Colon Cancer was what the doctor had diagnosed. Sadly it was already in stage two. I had tired to convince mother to get the treatment. She just smiled and said "wow dying? Sounds like a pretty big adventure".

Mom was never the type of person to show fear. When she said something she ment it. To say I was sad is an understatement. Yet, she kept a smile on her face. So, we decided to get a caretaker. Gwyneth was her name.
I finished my schooling at home. And helped Gwyneth take care of Mom.

Throughout this time, Gwyneth had taken a liking to my father. We could all see it. How they flirted with each other. How Gwyneth's daughter Raen had started calling him dad.

Mother never commented, on their relationship. Only smiled when she saw them together. Knowing her, she was looking out for my father. Hoping he would fall in love with someone who could hold him up, while she layed there dying.

I, on the other had. Would never approve. Father was a heartless sleaze ball. Someone who didn't deserve love. Then again, I didn't think my father deserved anything.

August 9th, my mother layed on her death bed. I was so unconsoleably sad that I had called DQ over and cried in his arms. She had called each of us in. First father, gwen, raen, DQ and then me. I will never forget the smile that had been on her face when I entered.

"That DQ, has always been one strange person. Even when when he was little he was the weirder one, out of the two of you". She had said

"Now, before I die. I want to give something to you." Reaching from under her pillow she pulled out a black velvet box.

"This necklace has been in our family for a few decades now. It was my great grandmothers. When my mother had given it to me, she told me that I needed to give this necklace to the person I loved most in this world. And since I won't be there for 18th birthday. I would like to give it to you now." She whispered handing it over to me

When I first opened the box i started to cry. My mother had given me something beautiful. Something meaningful to her. Something that my father would never had. That necklace represented the love she had for me. And only me. I haven't taken it off since the moment I put it on.

"Now listen here dae, what I'm about to say is extremely important. You must remember this everyday. Even when you start to struggle. Son, be soft for the sake of every hard heart. Show them with every movement of your body that being gentle does not mean you are weak. Do not give up on love. Ever. One day you will find it. Man or woman. Promise me?" She whispered as tears ran down her soft face.

Nodding I quickly swore it to her . No matter what my future was going to hold. I would always use my mother's words of advice.

Thinking about it now I couldn't help but cry harder. Even when she accepted her fate. She never cried. Yet here I was, face drenched. Heart broken. I wanted to vomit. To scream at the world. To hit my father for giving up on us. I wanted nothing more than to die.

I waited until she was completely buried. By then everyone had gone into the church for the reception. Grasping the necklace softly, I made my way to the church. You could hear everyone's soft yet pained laughs.

The tables were full of food. And the people were surrounding my father. Congratulating him for his new marriage, and apologizing for the death of his 'old wife'. All he could reply with was "Yuko would of wanted it this way".

I could barely stand to be in front of this man. He doesn't even have the decency to call her his wife. Disgusting. Was I the only one hurting? Did it even bother him? From where I'm standing it doesn't look like it. He's smiling, hold someone else. Kissing someone else. At his own wife's funeral. What kind of monster was he.

I grabbed my coat and left. By the time I got home I was tired. Tired of living. Tired of being around all those people. Tired of being tired. Yet, I sat here. In the silence. Listening to the sound of the rain. The sound of my heart crying out for his mother. The only sound that would never be satisfied.

This angry screaming took control of me. This evil side of me was breaking everything. The wall, the shit on my dresser, the door...Anything in my way was slowly demolished. Until the only thing I could hear. Was the rest of the love in my heart gasping for air.

As my hate slowly stabbed it to death. As I continued to run out of breath. As I sat there sobbing for someone to save me.  Howling in pain as my love had finally died. I could do nothing but cry. Because that's all I was capable of. That's all I would ever be capable of. Was feeling numb. Feeling like I didn't try hard enough. Feeling like death itself had just taken over my body. Forgive me mother. I have failed you.

With that last thought I collapsed.

Save me, from this destruction I call myself...

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Well? It wasn't the greatest butI tried🤷. Tell me what you think if you want :)

By the way Yuko means gentle one in
Japanese.

It's literally 11:01, I almost missed it
and broke my schedule

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Signing out

-saga