𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘

64 | chain of memories

Jungkook's POV

16 years ago...
Current location: Busan
(Jungkook is 5 yrs old)

I like being alone. But not for too long.

Mommy is working at the hospital. She has another late shift and Father is far away pursuing his dream. He said he will be back next week. I admire them both for their tenocity and perceverance, but they're away too often.

The house is always empty except from when Ms Choi, the friendly neighbor occasionally drops by to check how I'm doing. Mommy asked her to come here from time to time to make sure I'm alright, but I'm always in one place doing the same thing.

The little table in my room is filled with papers and markers and crayons and color pencils. On a blank sheet of paper I am free to do anything I please. I am in total control of the story that plays on my mind and I can choose all the colors I want to use. I am in charge of the pressure I want to apply as soon as the tip of the color pensil touches the paper, the density—the tip of the dark green pensil breaks, but that's okay. I tilt the pensil a little and continue to color the lonely trees in my forest with its smoother side.

My tiny hands are sweaty because I'm holding the pensil tightly and I'm very persistent and specific with my strokes in order to achieve an optimal texture. The sides of my fingers are coated in a pine green color and so is the inside of my nails.

I continue coloring.

Maybe if I finish this drawing and show it to Mommy later she will stay more often at home.

No, that isn't possible.

Mommy will come home late and she will tell me she's proud of me.

But she says that every time.

She says that my drawing is beautiful and special and I'm her little Picasso. Then she tucks me in and she goes into her own room.

My drawings aren't beautiful. They're not special.

The trees I'm drawing look like deformed shapes submerging in deep blue.

She only tells me what I want to hear.

She encourages me to continue doing what I love.

But she doesn't mean what she's saying.

I know she loves me and I love her too.

It's strange how adult' minds work. They keep saying one thing just to make you feel better but they're thinking of the opposite.

Why is that?

Why are we all liars?

Adults tend to think that children are foolish and stupid. Maybe that's why they lie, because they think we're naive and ignorant. But I can see through them.

Father is in Seoul and I miss him too. However, nothing I say can convince him to come back sooner. He's always busy making his movies. I call him every once in a while but our phone call lasts only five minutes on the dot.

The dads in the neighborhood always pick their kids from school.

So why doesn't my dad pick me up from school?

He doesn't love you, a harsh voice says.

I know they love me but it's not enough.