SIRENIC || KTH

8. Little Sister

Kathy's pov:

Jungkook has become a silhouette for me. I keep on seeing him here and there. I know my mental health is not stable and he's just an illusion. Appearing as if he walked from a photograph and left behind blackness. There is an ache that comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments.

I want so much to keep him close, to talk and laugh like we once did and I know that his absence is down to me. Nothing good can come of this right now and I would rather take the pain sooner than later. Maybe in a few years I can be happy again. Then I can have something that is actually good, that has chance of lasting.

I see him everywhere I go, in the things we both loved, in nature. So though he is gone, his aura remains, beautiful and strong, making the pain all the worse, keeping the feelings so raw.

In time I'll learn new skills to cope, I always do, I am a survivor after all. The passage of time can dull many things, allow the brain to redirect, reinvest energy elsewhere. In my tough times he'd come running, but now he can't, for now our paths have diverged and every step is heavy.

What do I do?

Where do I go?

Why do people have to be this lonely?

What's the point of it all?

Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking for others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why?

Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness? I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.

I always believed that when you are missing someone, they are probably feeling the same. But I don't think it's possible for Jungkook to miss me as much as I'm missing him right now.

Even if I'm embarrassed, I cry out loud when I'm sad, as tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart. That's what Mom taught me.

My worst type of crying isn't the kind everyone can see, the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, my worst kind happens when my soul weeps and no matter what anybody does, there is no way to comfort it. And that is exactly what is happening. 

I've become a genius of sadness, immersing myself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. I have become a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum.

A section has withered becoming a scar on the part of my soul that still survives. As if my soul contains more scar tissue than life. I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic. As if I can't breathe anymore.

On the horizon there’s a greyish haze, lit now with a rosy, deadly glow. Strange how that colour still seems tender. I'm walking but it seems like this road is never ending. The sun is rising but I can't feel the warmth of it. Birds are chirping but their voice isn't reaching my brain. My heart beats rapidly as I'm walking on this street. My legs freeze, I halt in front of his house, the same house where I used to live with him and Mom.

Now, it's me. The only two people who I called my family are not with me. Mom's death was disastrous and Jungkook's death is like I have lost a huge part of me.

Life is unfair... But isn't this extreme?

I stand in front of Jungkook's house as I recall all those weekends I spent here. Wondering how things changed drastically. Unlocking the door, I make my way inside. Nothing seems to be changed. The living room is as white as it used to be, the kitchen is as green as it was, his bedroom is as blue as it was.