April 1, 2014
The full moon looked daunting. Scary, even. Yet I couldn't stop staring at it.
Curled up on the corner of my bedroom with a comforter covering me fully, I drank the last of the bitter liquid in my glass. I wish I could say it was the last of the first glass, but it wasn't. It was the last of the third. I have grown tolerant of the alcohol that it now took six shots for me to knock myself down to sleep.
Tonight was worse than it were during the days of 2013, when I took two to three sips before going to bed. By the end of that year, I had escalated to a full glass. Now at the end of the first quarter of 2014, it became three glasses. I also finished the drinks while I was on the ground. On the corner wall. Covered in a blanket. Wearing my pajamas. Crying and over-thinking. Very pregnant. Eight weeks far along, and yet stupidly and carelessly consuming alcohol.
What am I trying to do? Why am I slowly killing this thing inside of me?
Thing. Funny. Just five days ago, when I thought of it as Jungsu's child, I called it a he -- his child -- my child -- our son -- even if I wasn't sure it was a boy. But now, knowing what I knew, I couldn't even begin to give it a name, or call it a gender, or think it had a life. Now I just wished more than ever that it wasn't there. That this did not happen. That I'd wake up, and I wouldn't be carrying something in my stomach that symbolized my mistake of cheating on Jungsu.
Though we weren't together, I promised him there was no one else. Though we broke up months ago, I vowed to him he was irreplaceable, and that I only belonged to him. Though we separated, I promised Park Jungsu I'd reserve myself for him until I found myself again, and until we got back together.
But I only lost myself more, and now I was even carrying someone else's child. As I remembered again who was the father, and why this happened, I became angrier and angrier at myself. I wanted to punish myself so badly for being so stupid and irresponsible to be knocked up, for being unfaithful and loose, for sleeping with a stranger. Since my doctor's appointment yesterday, I have spent the next thirty hours letting thoughts and memories become convoluted and overwhelming inside my mind.
How do I tell my parents? Will dad disown me? Will mom slap me and pull my hair out? Will Jiwoong oppa never talk to me again? Will Hayeon lose respect of me?
How do I tell SM? Will they ask me to abort the pregnancy? Will they let me quit SNSD? Will they let me go temporarily and come back after I gave birth?
How do I tell the members? Will they be disappointed at me? Will they support me? Will they turn their backs on me? Or like I did to Sica, will they end their friendship with me?
How do I tell Leeteuk oppa? Will he take responsibility? Will he end everything between us for good? Will he stay by my side?
All the questions churned, burned, turned in my head, and there were no answers. Only queries. Only problems. For every new question left unanswered, pain covered my sanity so that I was going insane once more. I was pathetically situated on the floor, curled up and hugging myself, crying my heart out because there was no one else to talk to but myself.
