BTS sickfics/hurtfics

Yoongi: It Hit Me Like A Train 🚆

<Trigger Warning: Depressing Thoughts, BIG ANGST>

Thanks for waiting so long after this uncalled-for hiatus. This one really hits home for me and may for other people. Haven't written in a while, so it may be a bit frayed at the end. By the way, there isn't a happy ending, and I haven't proofread.
- - - - - - -
Yoongi's Point of View:

  Life as an idol is one of the best and worst careers you could possibly aspire to be. On one hand, I get to do what I love, meet a bunch of supportive fans of me, and get to be with my favorite people. On the other, it's excruciatingly exhausting, overly criticized, and strict, most of all depressing to do this job 24/7.

  Most people think it's easy being someone like me, but it's the complete opposite. Hm, maybe I could write a song about this.

  As step outside, letting the polluted, harsh winds blow through my now heat-damaged hair, I realize how peaceful it is being alone in nature. The crickets' buzzing noise, each branch that crumbles underneath the pressure of my feet. Everything has a purpose, but where's mine? Do I even have one at this point..?

  I look around at my surroundings behind my dark shades as if I'm concealing my true emotions. I spot something that could be of use, as a stepping stone of hope. A small headache resonates in my head, but I ignore it and take Tylenol.

  My used notebook barely looks like there's space to write in it, but I somehow find a blank page. As my worn-out ink pen touched the mere surface of the page, cold but somehow but burning, was utter despair leaked from my soul onto the white sheet.
  At that moment, innocent was no longer its name, for the blackened aura I've pushed down over the years has taken over, as it owned my life for those few minutes of writing; my hand aching yet persevering, as if it was possessed.

My Life

Verse 1: Oh how my life seems perfect on the outside, but in reality, it's breaking down, down, down.
How do people not realize, out there I am just a lie, lie, lie?

Pre-Chorus: My world is falling all apart, but nothing you say will make it stop. How am I supposed to live like this?

Am I really here to be alive, or am I trying to survive? I can't tell the difference anymore.

Chorus: My Life is a lie, but I can't keep it inside.
If a "God" can't save me, then no one can, im drowning in myself.

Post-Chorus: Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, My life can't go on, no.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, My world, my life it's gotta stop.

Verse 2: My blood, sweat, and tears, they went right in here, but now that your gone all my work disappeared. Now I'm all alone trying to Fight, maybe to find a will to stay alive, if all else fails, boom like dynamite. My brain goes numb.

After an attempt to make another part of my song, scribbles seem to appear at the bottom of the page, my hand giving out. Though I had no recollection of the past hour, the headache lasted, grew even. I took more Tylenol and even Advil not realizing the last dose hasn't worn off.
I look at the ground around me, hundreds of balled up paper is trashed in a pile, mocking my presence in a way. try again tomorrow... if I even wake up.