Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
[AQUARIUM- THE SEASONS]
There were times in my life— like I’m sure billions of others have gone through—where I felt there was so much time.
In some cases, when I felt alone and was scraping at the very bottom of the barrel to feel something other then gut-wrenching pain, that time seemed to stretch. It expanded so far; I could remember every second like it were veins that detailed the back of my hand. The moments, the spare batches of time that cycled through season after season, they all compiled to form rocket-sized emotions that shot off whenever I felt attacked.
After they’re let go, they’d plunge into an ocean of tears when the engines fail. When my fight dies out, when I am locked in a dreary corner, when I’m suffocating with the whispers in my head, when I am constantly stuck re-living those events in my mind; I try to make sense of it all. Constantly picking at the old scab until it bled, just to find out why...
Why was I still here on earth if it were to struggle daily with the people surrounding me?
There were other times in my life—probably not like a billion others—where I pieced together my past like an aquarium. However, it was much smaller, with just four exhibits to visit, and only one question to answer.
What was my purpose?
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Strolling over to exhibit one, it’s springtime on a Saturday morning and the sun’s either peeking out or hiding behind thunder clouds so the rain could pour and green would grow. Most children around my age would despise the droplets that skid down the window, and cry when they couldn’t meet their friends to ride bikes and play hopscotch.
Ten-year-old me—or ten and a half I should say— didn’t feel much different, the rain didn’t excite me nor did it aggravate me—it was an anesthetic. The sound of water pelting the windows outside my bedroom let me know that the sun would come out soon and the flowers my eomma planted in the backyard would blossom.
But what I didn’t know this spring, would be the fact I’d have to spend the rest of my life with new people.
A boy, just a little older than me, with black curls and green eyes that stuck out so vividly back then, stared at me as he sat on the edge of my bed with a head tilt. I didn’t know much about him, apart from his name, Kim Taehyung; it was simply because I didn’t try or care enough to ask about him. Instead, I'd stare at the rain and listen to the water.
