Broken and (Un) loved

Part 3 (yoongi pov) :

It was a little daunting coming to University and just thinking about life. My peers did well in classes and balanced internships, scholarships, grades, and social lives. They had job offers with good companies from around the world. The whole world was running and people were advancing in life around me yet I was just making music- something I had been doing since 13.

It honestly bothered me how I did not have much of an interest in life or basic things. Even beyond classes I just seemed so bored and done. I felt like I saw enough. Everyone was running towards something in life yet I was lost and did not have a set goal for myself. It was as if I did not know in which direction to go, yet saw others climb in life prosper. Even though I enjoy music what if my mother was right and I didn't make it? And would I be able to live off of music?

I would take the 724148 bus each week from Daegu to Seoul and participate in competitions and underground rap battles.

"Ping" I checked my phone. It was a text from my dad. He said he wanted me to look for an internship to get a better taste of a professional job in an office, not being a delivery boy. I texted back saying I will apply later and I sighed. I really was not enthusiastic about it, but maybe the issue was me not them? What if everyone was right, after all, all the other students my age were able to cope and find something they are good at school why not me? And sometimes I let my worries and thoughts get the best of me and this was one of those times.

Later that night, my parents got home from work. "Yoongi we need to talk about your grades" my mother started. I sighed and she continued "your grades are slipping and your teachers made comments of not paying attention. Other kids are able to manage class, grades, AND better jobs. Plus, they help at home. My friends at work have children younger than you, they do better than you. The neighbors around the street are better. Why not you?".

"Yeah and their attitude is much better" my father chimed in. Honestly, they were putting it nicely. My life was literally falling apart.

I ran my hand through my hair. Even though I did not like this I felt that they were right. They deserved a better son someone who listened, someone who did well, someone who was not me. "Sorry, eomma, appa I will try to be better".

My mind was full. I felt useless as I was comparing myself to everyone. In the end, they were right, maybe it was a pathetic dream I was chasing. Maybe I was wasting my life running after the wrong things. What was wrong with me that I could not even manage to like one class? Nothing interested me much in class, really?

I decided I would do something to help out. I did the dishes and cleaned up around the house. At least my mom would feel better about me and not try to comment on how I don't take any initiative around this house.