Generations Expectation's | 8th member of BTS

46

| Korean Words meaning |

Still none, lol.

Anything in regular font = Korean

Anything in Italics = English

Anything in Bold = Spanish

Anything in Bold & Italics = Any other language besides Spanish, Korean, or English

*Was July 26th, Now August 2nd*

"Exellenct Ae Cha! You're doing amazing, slow.. slow, you don't need to overdo yourself. You're doing great."

I gritted my teeth as the physical therapist praised my efforts. "Amazing," she said. If she thought this was amazing, she had a very skewed idea of what was considered impressive. My strokes were weak, the movements labored and slow as if my back was bearing the weight of the entire world.

"Keep it up, just a few more laps!" she encouraged with a smile plastered across her face. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She had no clue what it felt like. The strain in my back felt like it was about to split open, and I was certain my spine was about to fall out with every stroke. But oh no, I had to keep up these slow, 'amazing' movements.

I tried not to scowl as she continued to push me. "Doing great, Ae Cha!" she repeated, sounding genuinely thrilled. She had no idea how exhausting this was. Every stroke felt like I was lifting an anvil. Yet, I had to pretend like this was all fine, that it wasn't the most painful thing I've ever done. My aunt, on the sidelines, was beaming. She looked so proud as if I was swimming like an Olympian. "Keep going, Ae Cha, you're making incredible progress!" she cheered, completely oblivious to the struggle raging inside me.

I wanted to scream, to tell them both that this was torture, and that I felt like I was going to collapse with each stroke. Instead, I pushed through, trying to ignore the waves of exhaustion and discomfort, my annoyance toward the therapist growing with every word of encouragement she gave.

At last, the session ended. My physical therapist, somewhere in her thirties but acting like she was still in her twenties, was pleasant enough. She was undoubtedly the cream of the crop of what BigHit, and her efforts with me were proving effective-I could sense and observe my improvement day after day. But honestly, her endless stream of compliments and unwavering 'can-do' attitude was slowly but surely driving me up the wall. She swims her way up and out of the pool with no effort, her feathery and long black hair tied up highlights her muscular and fit physique, but in turn, highlights the newly formed stress lines on her forehead. She turns and smiles down to me as my backstrokes fizzle into a lazy and tired doggy paddle to the steps, desperate for a moment of rest.

As I sat on the edge of the pool, exhausted and feeling the low ache in my back, my physical therapist, Wayoung, praised my progress. She reminded me of our 'bright and early' session tomorrow, where we'd focus on butterfly strokes. My mind groaned at the thought of yet another early morning start.

Meanwhile, Aunt Becca approached Wayoung, praising her and starting a low conversation away from me. I sighed, feeling the weight of my tired body over all this. The pain in my back had subsided somewhat during the session, but I could still feel the dull ache, a reminder of the strain I'd endured.

Wayoung's voice carried over, "Great job today, Ae Cha! Tomorrow's session will be even better. You're making progress."

With a forced smile, I managed, "Thanks, Wayoung."

As my aunt and Wayoung continued their conversation, I rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes briefly. The bright sunlight filtering through the glass windows felt comforting, yet I couldn't shake the fatigue weighing me down. I longed for all this to be over.