Namjoon: 22 May Year 22

“I’m barely one year older than him. No, I never said that. I’m older, right. I know. But he isn’t a kid forever. Is now the right time to take care of this? Alright. I said alright. No, I’m not mad. I’m sorry.” 

 

I hung up and looked down at the ground. A tepid sea wind swept through the trees. My chest hurt and felt like it was going to explode. Some ants on the half-sand-half-dirt floor of the beach were going somewhere in a line. From both a physical and symbolic standpoint, could there be someone of a greater existence than me that could see exactly where I was going or what I would eventually become?

 

It’s not that I didn’t love my parents. It’s not that I wasn’t worried about my brother. I would just turn away if I could, but I certainly can’t do that because there’s no one but me. What would be the point of my struggling, anger, frustration, and desire to escape from it all if I did?  

 

I saw the back of someone standing as if they were crucified, just like I was over here. It was Jungkook. Jungkook once said to me, “I want to be an adult like you.” I couldn’t tell him then. I wasn’t a good adult, no, I wasn’t an adult at all. I felt like it would be too cruel to say that to him. No one ever showed any belief or interest in him. No one gave him any affection either, even though he rightfully earned all of it. I couldn’t tell my young friend that getting older, growing taller, and living a little longer didn’t make you an adult. I hoped Jungkook’s future was brighter than my own, but I couldn’t promise that I’d be any help in the process of growing up. I approached him and put my arm around his shoulder. Jungkook turned and stared at me.

 

@shootinghearts_