Blinded by Silk (BTS Jimin)

1.

No path in life is ever repeated or the exact same to the person next to you. But the pressure to squeeze into the invisible box of social normality will always haunt every young person on this earth. It doesn’t matter who you are or your background, expectations have already been set since the moment you were born. 

No matter the gender, an agenda is already laid before you. It doesn’t matter who brought it up; family, friends, relatives, it’s always there. Creeping, crawling, lurking in the back of everyone's mind. 

At a young age, I never expected much, but I always poured my heart and soul into whatever I am passionate about. That's what I knew, that’s what I did. There was no other way. 

Music. Art. Performing. Writing. Poetry. Creativity and imagination flood the mind to create delicate masterpieces throughout time itself. I find how the body reacts to events, emotions, and loved ones, astounding. 

How we are able to capture moments in time with a single photograph, or perfectly mimic the beauty of a sunset with a palette and brush, or even live in a world we never traveled to but with cautious and precise words cause us to dive deep into a world we didn’t know existed until we read the first page. 

So much can be done with one's mind. Why do we limit the might of one's consciousness?

Why do we tame the forest fire into an ember? 

Why is it always like that?

When did life become so dull? When did people lose interest in colors, dance, art, and writing?

Why is it when you come of age the scope of careers and acceptable future indications swarm around coins and bills rather than experience and enjoyment? 

When? Why does this always happen?

When did dreaming become a bad thing?

When did believing in the impossible become one step closer to a maniac or living on the streets with other dreamers?

When?

As a toddler, I had my mindset on becoming an astronaut (like any other child who peered up at the night sky). Traveling and being in outer space sounded like a dream come true. But my parents pulled me back to earth and shoved me in front of a piano instead. Did I complain? Did I fight back? 

I might have. 

Day by day, key by key, the stars became balls of fire and gas. Nothing special, nothing magical. Just another part of nature's grand design. The moon no longer was a traveling destination, just an old, battered, floating rock in space. All the previous joy and vigor to withstand hours upon hours of training, studying, and research, vanished. 

The only thing that mattered was following the keys and matching the tempo. 

Not what was out there, but what is closer and less dangerous. Less terrifying. Less taunting. Less work, but nonetheless, an okay pay. 

The stars weren’t the limit, they were the place I dare not try to reach. 

My arms aren’t long enough. I can’t reach. I am too short. 

Excuse after excuse, my parents grounded me. Ankles chained down, weights holding me in place. 

They knew where I would always be. Not drifting away from their grasp but within their reach. Ready to pull, ready to tug once I realized I could fly. 

For years I kept my head down, not bothering to run or life the weights holding me down. 

There I sat. Day after day, page after page. Lonely keys began to slide together and merge into new notes. My back straightened, no longer slouched over, no longer bent out of shape. The tempo became a stream, flowing throughout my body. Swaying, swinging, moving side to side. Becoming one with the piece before me instead of copying it. My fingers leap from the old keys and glide to the new section, creating my own twists and turns. 

Thwack!

I draw my hand away from the board, knuckles stinging from the impact. 

“Follow what is written. Don’t you understand? Tsk, worthless. She can’t even follow simple directions.”

I tenderly rub my hands together, attempting to soothe the ache. The chains suddenly drag me down, my wrists at my side. 

“I can’t play like this!” I cry out, tears pricking at my eyes.

The faceless monstrosities waves the stick in front of me.

“Then do as we say and play.” 

♡

A/N: this story will be different that the others I have written. Plus I'm writing this by hand instead of doing it on a laptop and blubbing there. It's most def a difference for me, but it gets me thinking about the importance of wording and paragraphs and what's really necessary about a story. And plus it's nice to take a break. My handwriting might suck, but it's still legible.

So yeah, if this story has an unusual feeling to it, that's why. The contrast between writing on paper against the computer (at least for me) is interesting.

There is something else with this story. The first chapter might be short but it is very very VERY important. Yes. That's all I'm going to say about that.

And yes, Jimin. Yes, another Jimin story.

Fight me.

Square up.

Just kidding, I love you.

♡