❀
"Are you listening to me?"
I crash into the side of the wall and slide down to the bedroom floor. All I see is a blurry piece of nothing.
"Hey." He snaps in front of my glossed over eyes. "You with me Jungkook?"
I blink twice then fall over roughly on the side. My head slams against the soft carpet with a soft thud.
"Jesus." He sighs. "Are you dead? Are you dying?"
I can't blink my eyes. I feel them leak in crazy directions because I'm slouched over, but I don't wipe it. I'm numb, empty, but at the same time I feel euphoric. All I can feel is my self concious which has usually been a weapon to me, but now it's calm, cool, and pleasureable.
I don't know whose talking to me right now.
"Hyung?" He slaps my face repeatedly.
My eyelids feel heavy.
"Can I get some help?!" He yells out. He's panicking. A smile posseses my lips. Can't relate.
Rushing footsteps fill the room. They pause. "Oh my God." They choke out before proceeding up to my body and placing me onto their broad shoulders. My head and arms dangle behind their back as their arm holds me at the waist.
The one who carries me speaks. "Jimin, I'm gonna take him to the hospital."
Ah. That was Jimin smacking me.
"What?!" Jimin sounds in hysterics. "You can't do that! H-he's gonna be locked up or something!"
Carry guy smells like expensive cologne. The kind my dad used to spray all over himself before he went out for 'work.'
Work was fucking other women that weren't my mom.
All the blood is rushing to my head and stomach hurts.
"Then what else do we do?!" Carrier yells. "He's going to die Jimin!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" Jimin wheezes. I can tell he's sobbing. "This is all my fault!" He chokes on his sobs. "If I would've......just.....just.....FUCKING been honest!" I hear slamming against the floor. I think he's banging his fists against it. "In the middle of tour too....GOD DAMN IT!" One last loud thud followed by soft whimpers.
He's way too hard himself.
"Jimin....." Carry dude inhales a deep breath and exhales. "It's not your fault."
Silent.
A burning sensation feels my lower stomach, making it's way up to my throat and out of my mouth.
I vomit allover the back of the kind guy's shirt.
And everything goes dark.
•••
"My mind feels like a bird cage. Everything I do feels invalid. Why am I suffering so much?"
My therapist gives me a look of wonder. He sits legs slightly folded in his fancy doctor chair. I sit on a white couch across from him.
"Jungkook....you don't need to feel unimportant." He states calmly, looking into my eyes. "You're just as important as anyone else."
I break the contact.
"Yeah but, I know I'm not the only person on this earth hurting......." I furrow my brows as I search my brain for the right words. "It just feels that way. And if there's no help for me...." I let out a heavy sigh. "then what's the point?"
"Of living?" He asks.
"Yeah."
He adjusts himself in the chair. "Jungkook," He says softly. I meet his eyes. "why do you think you were put on this earth?"
Wow. That's a thought that never crossed my mind before.
"I-I don't know." I shrug nervously.
"What do you think it was for? If you had to guess."
Jeez. I really don't know.
"I don't know...."
He leans forward. "Now what do you want it to be for?"
I pause. My eyes scan the large modern-esc decorated room. Mostly whites and soft solid colors. I wonder if there's a science to the way it was picked out. To make the patient feel calmer.
"To make other people happy." I say finally meeting his gaze again.
A small smile graces his lips as he leans back into his chair. "Why's that?" He asks.
I don't know.
"I guess.....because I know how it feels to be at the lowest........if my purpose could be to somehow prevent that.....or bring other people out of it.....that would be nice."
He maintains his approving smile. "Well that's what you were put here for Jungkook."
I look down at the floor.
"You're gonna be that for someone. That mental crutch. You're so important. Even when you face hell, you still want to get others out of it."
I look back up.
"What do you think about doing that? For the rest of your life?"
A smile creeps onto my lips. "That would be fine."
Mr.Lee smiles wide. "But we have to help you first." He states scribbling down onto the notepad on his lap.
My smile fades.
He looks back up to me with enthusiasm. "What do you think about a rehab program?"
No. Hell no. Fuck no.
I swallow. "Rehab program?"
"Yes," He notices my uneasiness and softens up. "it will be just for a couple of months...until you show some signs of progress."
I scan the navy blue floor.
"There's a program for people just like you Jungkook. There's no shame in getting help."
No shame?
There's no shame in having depression.
There's no shame in being mentally ill.
There's no shame shame in looking for a way out.
But that's when you're actually suffering to other people. A normal person, with normal person things. I'm a spoiled rich kid. Someone who has had everything their heart could desire....but yet here I am. I have had no reason to be depressed. To feel lonely, when there are thousands who adore me.
I chose drugs over those people.
"Can you commit to once a month?" He asks still into his notepad, maintaining a grin.
I sigh. "Yeah. Yeah.....I guess I don't really have a choice."
He meets my eyes.
A toothy smile spreads across his soft face.
