Exposed Truth | Jeon Jungkook

Chapter 14

Yuri || Wednesday, May 27 (past) 

I don't remember how many drinks I've had or how I even got here. My head is spinning and my legs seem to want to give up on me as I wobble towards the familiar house before me. My vision is blurred and I struggle to make my way towards the front door. I don't know what got into me, I've never acted this way before. I laugh and lean against the door as I take a swig of beer from the bottle in my hand.

I ring the doorbell a couple of times and the door finally opens. I fall inside, but I'm caught in a pair of arms before I can hit the floor. I giggle and look up to see Jennie's shocked face.

"Yuri...?" she says with a startled and confused expression as she stares at me. "What are you doing here?"

I move away from her and flop onto the soft sofa. Jennie comes to my side and takes the beer bottle from my hands. I don't complain when she takes it away from me and places it on the coffee table. I stay laying on the cushions and close my eyes. She sighs and moves away from me. I want to let myself drift off to sleep, but there's just too much on my mind, so I can't sleep in peace. My head is pounding and I groan.

"I thought you hated alcohol and getting drunk," Jennie says then yawns sleepily and I feel her gently place a cool towel on my forehead.

"You're right," I mutter as I slowly open my eyes and stare at the white ceiling.

A soft sigh escapes from my lips and I smile softly. For a while, I missed drinking because it made me feel better and it made me feel lighter, but right now I just feel so sick and I now remember why I hate having alcohol in my system so much. It always reminds me of him. My mind is filled with things I so badly want to tell someone about; I want to spill out all my emotions.

I sense Jennie get up from the sofa. She glances at me with a sigh, then places a fleece blanket on my body.

"It's already 3am, so you can stay here for the night," she says and rubs her eyes as she heads to her bedroom.

"I feel so unimportant and useless," I say suddenly and Jennie stops in her tracks.

She turns to look at me for a brief moment, but I don't say anything more, so she says, "Whatever you have to say, you can tell me when you're sober. It's late, you should sleep or you'll have a terrible hangover in the morning."

"No," I say softly. "I can't do this when I'm, sober. I know I might regret it, but I just have to get all of this off my mind. I just want you to listen to me, please?"

"Fine," she says and moves to sit down on a chair beside me.

I tell her everything. I keep rambling on and on, until there's nothing more to tell her. Everything I tell her is the truth, I don't hide any of my feelings from her. I let the words escape from my lips and I say whatever is on my mind. At this moment, I don't think about the consequences, I just say the things I want to say. I trust her to keep what I say a secret between the two of us. She is my best friend after all, so I spill everything to her.

"I feel like I can't do anything, like I'm expected to be so much more than who I am. The expectations are high and I can't keep up. I want to meet those expectations, but I can't. I'm tired and sick of it. I wish someone could just understand me. I wish that I can be happy. I want to do things for myself. To be contented with life in my own way without being forced by other people. I don't want to be someone I'm not. I don't want to be perfect, because or else I won't be human. Humans are meant to be imperfect. I am human, I have feelings and I am flawed. I have things that I am good at, why do I have to be perfect in absolutely everything. If I was perfect, then I am merely just a robot. I am nothing. I want to smile because I am genuinely happy and not because people want me to. I want to do things for me, myself and I. There's so much pressure around me to be the perfect role model. To overcome this stress and escape from the pressure that people around me give me," I tell her without stopping. "I belong to myself. I don't belong to anyone but myself. I can choose my own path, nobody can drag or push me around to force me to the path they want me to take because this is my life. Nobody knows what's right for me, they only know what they think is right for me through their personal experience, but they are not me. They don't know me. Nobody knows me and nobody fucking owns me. So why do people think that they have the right to lead my life and tell me how I should live?"