The haunting feeling never changed - often loomed over me like an all consuming darkness. Ready to swallow any trace of who I used to be. I loathed the admission that this darkness had become a constant in my life. Misery had carved itself into my bones, forcing curses into my blood. Often, people approached me with the hope of some semblance of a connection. Friendship, perhaps. Sometimes, more. Though, the moment they approached, they saw how the misfortunes of the world were so deeply intertwined within me that there was no hint where they started and I began. Who could blame them?
I often felt like the embodiment of Tartarus, the deepest part of the underworld. Home to only the darkest, evilest creations of Mother Gaia. Despite the constant abandonment, there were some that did try. Angels from above tried to pull me from the consuming hole of despair, yet a glimpse into the depths of who I was, and they often fled in sheer terror. Never ending suffering was tattooed across my eyelids, accompanying the fathomless pain that bled into my irises. The demons within me were nothing if not ordinary, I was not special. Whether they outright showed it or locked it away, every person dealt with the weight of at least one. The suffocating weight of them perched on your back, the whispered words that inflicted self hatred. Woefully, every war had its lost soldiers, the same way many others managed to return to the embrace of their home. The war within me felt as though it had lasted millenia, never stopping to let me breathe. And recently, it just felt like the armor I carefully crafted in preparation was beginning to crack under the constant whispers resonating in my mind. I was being defeated, becoming a prisoner of my own mind.
The verdict they so casually taunted me with had become my corporeality, some being that was not flesh and bone had become my puppeteer. There was no escape, no salvation, I had tried so hard to keep the fragments of myself that remained. Often, they toyed with me. Gave me a moment of reprieve, and snatched the hope from my bare hands the moment I had begun to grasp it. The same bloodied bandage on the same wound.
With these voices, with the constant battle, came decisions I once swore I would never make. I turned to unimaginable methods, made a mess of myself simply for a breath of air that was not tainted. My anger reared its ugly head towards my body, hurting it simply because it could. But, there was nothing else I could do. Nothing else saved me, even if it was for just a moment, a grain of sand within the hours I spent wallowing in self deprecation. This 'solution' allowed me to temporarily silence the booming thoughts. The fear that enveloped me was leaving nothing in its wake, nobody could help me.
All I needed was the comfort of someone's hand shielding mine from the world. From me. I needed a child of Apollo to cradle me within their arms, and promise me through careful words weaved with poetry, that it would all be fine. Perhaps a child of Artemis, to make the night less terrifying. Or a child of Hestia, to show me the encompassing feeling of a home. Someone, anyone, who would help me love the art of living once more. So I could love myself, and them in return. I needed the warmth of someone's body to wake me up from the earnest nightmare. People missed who I used to be, and I missed him too. Where had he gone? Could he ever come back?
Perhaps someone above heard me, took pity on me and sent a blessing from the heavens. The moment I had decided it was all gone, the second I felt ending it all would be worth it, he came along. Dressed in an armor crafted solely with willpower and love. A child from an otherworldly being, surely. He ran into the storm raging within me, nothing to save him in case the waves tried to swallow him whole. Working at the chains encircling my heart, forced the storm clouds to stop sending waves of turmoil through my conscience. Slowly, and with a magic I still do not understand, he freed me from the confines of myself. Even through the struggles, the walls I made sure to continue building to ensure he would stay away, he plummeted through. Jeon Jungkook was the embodiment of an angel, a God, he gave me the key to winning the burning battle. And the rest of my life would be spent worshiping him, and vice versa.
- rewritten.
