Texting Sunshine ☀️💕
Sunshine ☀️💕
yooo angelll
Jisung
yessss?
Sunshine ☀️💕
i love youuu
Jisung
i love you tooo
Sunshine ☀️💕
how was your day?
Jisung
it was good
yours?
Sunshine ☀️💕
mine was fine
how're you
doing?
Jisung
i'm all good
wbu
Sunshine ☀️💕
i'm great :)
Jisung
i'm glad 💕
- - - - -
Why do I get sad over nothing? Why do I lie to my boyfriend about being okay?
I sigh to myself, setting my phone on my bed and laying back. I stare up at the old glow-in-the-dark stars I had gotten years back. I loved the night sky, so whenever there weren't any stars out, I'd just have to look up.
My hands settled on my tummy, feeling whenever it went up or down when I breathed. I licked my lips, the skin feeling dry.
I wasn't sad, but I was. It was an odd feeling to not know what emotions you had. I hated it. At one point I want to cry, and another, I want to sleep.
I was so tired mentally and physically. I wanted to sleep away my problems, but I knew I couldn't.
A tear fell from my cheek and onto my pillow. Thank god mom isn't home. I turn over into my soft pillow, whimpering slightly. I let the sobs rack my body, shaking the bed slightly.
I breathed in only to have it shoved out by more cries. I was so sad. I wasn't even sure what the problem was. And I didn't want to tell anyone. I wanted to be by myself. I wanted this pain because I fucking deserved it. Why? I don't know. I don't fucking know. I just know that I deserved it. Such a lame excuse for a boyfriend. A friend. A son.
My hands tingled. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to feel more pain. I wanted to so bad. But I couldn't. I couldn't go down that path because I knew that I'd never find my way out.
But one hit wouldn't hurt. Just one.
I slowly crawled off of my bed, standing in front of my pale red wall. I raise my right hand, forcing it forward. My knuckles hit the wall, not enough to hurt. I hit it again, sniffling. This time harder. My knuckles felt little pain.
"God, I fucking hate you," I growl through my clenched teeth. Another hit. Harder. The sound bounced off, creating a thump.
"What's wrong with you?" I spat. A fourth hit. The hardest one so far. It made my hollow walls shake.
"I hate you!" I yell. A fifth. "You're so fucking stupid!" A sixth. "Grow up!" A seventh.
I hit the wall continuously, feeling the burning pain but not stopping. Sobs tore at my throat. My calves stung from where I stood. My hand bones felt like they were numb.
It was as if a giant was knocking on my door, though instead it was me punching the wall like an idiot. I did it over and over. Not stopping until my vision washed over, seeing slight dents carved into the red.
"Jisung? Are you home?"
Mom.
Mom.
Mom.
I cried weakly, falling into the wall and sliding down it. What an idiot.
"Baby? Oh god, Jisung!" My mom ran into my room, dropping to her knees by my side. "Baby, what happened?"
She places her hands on my cheeks, brushing away my tears, though they weren't stopping. I shake my head, not wanting to explain.
Now that I was less angry, I felt the pain. It burned, god, it burned. My hand was shaking, it being red, bruised, and sore. I felt like I couldn't move it.
"Come on, baby, get up," she says, trying to pull me up while having tears in her eyes. "Let's go, honey."
I stand up, limping to the bathroom, although I had no pain in my legs. I felt so weak.
-
My bag was on one shoulder while my damaged hand dangled uselessly by my side. Last night had been hard. My mom bandaging my hand while I didn't answer a single question.
"Hey J," Changbin says cheerfully. I didn't respond. He looks over, "you okay?" I didn't respond. He awkwardly looks away, being silent until we make it to the schools sidewalk where we parted ways.
Minho comes up to me, "what's wrong?"
I didn't respond. I push past him, a slight sting in my hand making me wince. I can feel him staring at me as I walk to my locker.
I struggle to open my bag and get my books out. I felt myself get frustrated, throwing the bag onto the floor and kicking my locker. My breathing was heavy, trying to calm myself down from my anger.
A hand picks up my backpack, opening it and grabbing my books out. I watch Minho quickly put the rest of my things inside my locker. He looks at me, sympathy in his eyes. He lifts his arms a bit, asking a question.
I shove myself forward, crying into his shoulder. "I-I was so angry, Min. I was so angry." His arms wrap around my frail body, shushing me calmly.
"I'm here, angel. I'm here," he whispers, rubbing my back soothingly. "Let me see."
We pull away slowly, and I lift my hand. He takes it gently, not wanting to hurt me. Though it hurt anytime I moved it.
"Why?"
"I don't know," I admit, "I was sad, and then my anger took over. I don't know even know why I was sad. I don't. I wasn't thinking straight. A-and I didn't even try to stop. Not until I saw the dents. Then my mom came home, and it was a mess."
"God, Jisung..." he starts, "I don't know what to say. You shouldn't take your anger out with harm to yourself. It'll only leave you with regret. Do you regret it?" I nod. "See? Please, think about it before you do it. You could've done serious damage. You're so lucky that your hand isn't fractured or anything. That could cause some serious damage. Jeez..."
I felt like I was being scolded. I needed it. What he said was right. I shouldn't have done it. It's too late now, but I need to think more.
"Look at me."
I lift my glazed eyes, meeting his soft ones. He leans forward, capturing my lips in a sweet kiss. The touch sent electric waves through my spine. It was nice. I could never get used to it. It was too good of a feeling, and it was different every time.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
•How was this?
Yet another chapter that I wrote for my book but I took it out•
