The Most Beautiful Lie

Chapter One // Run

Two hours. I've been laying awake in this bed for two hours staring at the Sinatra blue skies. The dreaded window who doesn't prevent the sun from waking me up, but I guess it's my fault, I should have closed the blinds. I was too tired however, now that I think about it I've been nothing but tired lately and not only physically.
I'm making excuses I've known this for a while. I kept telling myself it would go away, that this pain was just for a while but now I know it won't.
The thing is I'm no longer trying to get rid of it, I don't even try to ignore it. I've accepted it to be a part of me rather than it being apart of me.
It feels as if Lucifer is sharing my mind and he's clawing his way to my side trying to take over and it hurts like the firefly pits of hell and I'm not fighting it anymore because I no longer feel a soul inside of me. I'm not broken, I'm completely destroyed but I'm fine.

"Hobi!" I hear a voice shout.
I shut my eyes, I hear as two pairs of feet walk into my room, I hear their whispers and one of them says "he's still asleep, let's leave him alone."
The other agrees.

My friends, the ones I live with simply think I'm tired and they're right. We have excruciating practice everyday and I have to lead them, this is why they think I'm always sleeping in my free time, why I'm always in my room. The reality is that I spend my time looking at myself in the mirror pointing out the imperfections the media and "fans" point out and I agree, hating myself, I disgust myself.
The reality is that I spend my time crying, no... trying to cry but I can't because I no longer feel anything emotionally, so I try to feel something physically. It's not a surprise, I don't feel a thing. These thighs the ones my friends aren't allowed to see because I'm "embarrassed at how pale they are" are covered in old and fresh scars.
The reality is that I spend my time thinking about how different this world would be without me, how it would effect the people I surround myself and then I realized that I am no one and if I were gone no one will notice.
The reality is that I spend my time thinking about suicide. How when I look at my imperfections I grab the pills that should help me be thin, but I want to swallow them all at once then maybe I'll be as thin as a corpse. How when I try to cry I think about a noose who will make me feel the same as the lump in my throat prevents me from crying. How when I think about this world I realize it doesn't love me so I want the ocean or something similar to it like a full bathtub to caress me, and never let me go as long as I shall live.

They can't wait any longer, my friends come in "Hoseok it's time for breakfast you've had enough time to rest."
I yawn and smile widely in the perkiest tone I joke "Goodmoring it's about time you guys are up." They laugh and I do as well, the signature J-Hope smile. The most "extra" yet lovable and hopeful person you'll ever meet, is I, the one who sees the whole world as it truly is, dark.