In the lively atmosphere of a busy college, where hallways are filled with energy and dreams, a close group of friends starts an exciting adventure through the ups and downs of teenage life. They experience the thrill of new friendships, crushes, an...
"Namjoon, it's time to wake up!" My mother's loud voice cuts through my sleepy haze, echoing from downstairs and pulling me away from the warm comfort of my dreams.
In a weak attempt to ignore her, I sink deeper into my pillows, hoping to grab just a few more minutes of precious sleep. Unfortunately, my plan is quickly interrupted by heavy knocks on my bedroom door. "Please, Namjoon, wake up! You're already late for your class!" Her voice comes through the door, filled with frustration, urgency, and constant knocking.
With a sudden start, I wake up and quickly check the clock on my bedside table. The numbers seem fuzzy as I realize I'm not just running late—I'm several hours behind! A wave of panic hits me as I leap out of bed, my feet fumbling on the floor. I rush to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, brushing my teeth, and throwing on whatever clothes I find in a hurried mess.
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After what feels like a long time, though only fifteen minutes, I finally gather the courage to head downstairs. The wooden steps creak under my feet, making the quiet even more unsettling. When I open the door to the living room, my mother's sharp gaze catches me instantly. Her eyes, usually gentle and kind, now look at me with disappointment and frustration, making her discontent clear.
The tension in the room is thick as I take in the scene: my father is slumped comfortably on the couch, entirely focused on the flickering TV screen. The soft light from the screen reflects on his face, creating moving shadows, but he seems unaware of the heavy atmosphere around us. The contrast between his relaxed presence and my mother's intense stare only heightens my discomfort. At this moment, the living room feels less like a warm family space and more like a quiet battlefield filled with unspoken problems.
"Why are you always late? Don't you ever get anything done on time?" my mother begins, her voice growing more intense as she leans against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed tightly. "You have one main job in life, and even that seems too hard for you. Why do you always act so lazy? Look at your friends! They wake up early, finish their tasks, and always arrive on time for school and work. And here you are—without a job! Maybe it's because everything just gets handed to you because of how hard your dad works for this family. You don't seem to appreciate any of it. Do you even realize how much effort he puts into providing for all of us? It's tough to watch you take it all for granted."
A wave of frustration washes over me, and I can feel my anger heating up inside my chest. My hands tense up at my sides as I try to keep it in check. "Mom, I've heard this lecture a hundred times already!" I blurt out, the words bursting out with more force than I meant. My voice sharpens, almost turning into a shout, as I try to stand my ground in this ongoing argument. The mix of annoyance and defiance twists in my stomach, and I can sense the tension growing heavier in the room.
Rolling my eyes, I listen to the same complaints from her again. She keeps reminding me how I never seem to meet her expectations and how my friends succeed while I struggle. It feels like a heavy burden on my chest, this never-ending cycle of feeling like I'm not good enough. I don't know what more I can do to win her approval. I put in a lot of effort—I'm at the top of my class and ranked first on my state exam. But somehow, it's still not enough for her. I don't have everything handed to me; I work hard for what I achieve. Even when I need help, I never ask for their money. My school and tuition are all covered by a scholarship I earned.
