Gratefulness~ pt.5
"I’m in the middle of a race, my success to others is bad news"
Intro
It is a black day in December.
One of those I used to have as a child. I had almost forgot about them...
I used to beg for death, hope for someone to take me away from this eternity I didn't feel like I belonged into.
On rainy days it was the worst. I cried on the attic alone, squeezing a warm blanket in my hands, looking outside of the little round dirty window and just felt empty. There was nothing to live for, nothing at all. I never knew why I cried but I just kept going. And the rain was the world crying along with me, helping me to release the senseless pain I carried inside of me. The world was beautiful. But for me, it was dark. It was cold. It was nothing.
I didn't know the reason which I still have no idea. It was the first time in ten years I felt like this. Like someone was trying to suffocate me, I could not breath freely. All the emotions crashing into each other and creating something so powerful. Something with more energy than an atomic bomb could hold. Something that wipes away everything that's surrounding me. Creating an empty blackness, a black hole, with no sounds, no thoughts, no nothing. Time feels like nothing.
It had been the death that had arouse these feelings again.
But I believe it's only the most wisest people who can feel this sad, feel the deep deep sorrow. That's what I had always thought. May it be a way to survive or just a plain thought. That only those can be so broken because only they know how much pain it means, how painful it is. Only them, only then... I want to say: look around you. Who is the happiest might be the saddest. Who is the wisest might be the dummest, suffering with a pain without a reason. How stupid is that? And this is what I am. What I see. What I feel. Look around you and listen. It's not always how it seems. Very seldom it is.
Those are the artists that paint the world beautiful, trying to hide the ugly truth and emptiness only they themselves can see. And the other people enjoy the pure happiness created for them to never see the backstage. The true artists are sad. If someone admires an artist, he admires misery. The wounds under the artist's jacket sleeves. Scars. Broken bones. Bad blood. Artists are mental. And that's the art of being an artist. Seeing, feeling something the others possibly can't. If someone doesn't understand an artwork, he isn't artistic. He is blind. He can't see the other eternity: the bubble inside of an artist's mind.
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I'm listening... Listening to the never-ending gossiping around me as I try to just enjoy my healthy lunch before another rapping class.
"What if she'll be a part of the Pink Punch?" someone worries.
"No," her friend gasps. "It can't be so. She's not that good."
"Do you think she understands what we're talking yet?"
"You know, our language is one of the hardest to learn. Of course she doesn't."
But Finnish is just as hard to learn as Korean, I think to myself. I know very well what they're talking about.
I have had other things to worry about lately. How my brothers will survive? What Joakim thinks about me as he saw me walking out of the house in an all-black outfit with white lilys in my hands? Does he still remember me? What about mom? If she had the chance to tell me something, would she have wanted me to stay? Should I be at home taking care of everything? I don't know if Robert even knows how to keep the apartment clean...
I sigh deeply. And then I stand up and take the tray to the cafeteria's kitchen.
"Have a nice day," the lovely ahjummas say to me and I thank them for the food and with a polite smile on my face although I'm having one of the worst days in my life. I know I should be strong. I should be ready to hear about my future tomorrow, about my new group and the members I will have to move in a new dorm with. I just don't feel ready yet. Not now when everything is so black.
I head back to the class room with other trainees who are not talking to me. They have started talking to me less and less the closer the day of my group forming has come. I don't know why they even bothered to treat me well at first. At least my roommates talk to me.
"Oh, hi BaBo," I greet the girl in black as I haven't seen her for a long time, only by a glimpse since the party. She has been keeping busy. I even saw her in a commercial on TV.
"Hi," she gives me a weird look and I feel less interest in talking to her. Even she takes me as a threat. It's ridiculous. I mean, all the trainees are basically threats to each other but each of them has still made friends and are having a good time when I myself am always alone. Do I really deserve this? I guess I do.
I sit alone on the left side of the room. At times like this I really miss Finland and Sara. She was always with me at classes. I feel the need to text her but I'm a good student and so I don't take the phone out of my handbag. I wish I could...
At dinner time I get to visit the dorm before the evening's media class and dance practices. I walk the same path back as I always do. It's misty and my hair becomes fuzzy and curly and I hate it. But nothing can make this day worse. It's already so bad. Or that's what I had thought.
As I walk towards the parking lot in front of the dormitory and look up, I see someone dressed in a long black coat leaning against the wall and now glancing at my direction. Why is everyone wearing black today, I wonder.
"And what are you? A ghost?" I mumble as I get to the door. I'm just so tired, both physically and mentally. But mostly mentally. Kiko corrects her position and looks at me sharply.
"Aren't you scared?" she asks me, frowning.
"Scared? Of whom?" I'm just a little bit surprised.
"I'm sorry, but whatever you came to tell me, I'm just too tired to hear about it right now."
I dig the key card out of my handbag but she steals it from me. I look up into her furious-looking eyes. She's still beautiful. And I still wished I had never met her. I wish I had never even liked GD so that I wouldn't need to deal with her. And that if something shows how tired I am
"If I come here from Japan just to tell you something, you little girl, sit down and listen," she says angrily and turns around to head to the park.
"Ahh," I huff. I wish this would be only a nightmare but it's very real. I just don't know how long I can take this anymore...
It is a black day in December.
One of those I used to have as a child. I had almost forgot about them...
I used to beg for death, hope for someone to take me away from this eternity I didn't feel like I belonged into.
On rainy days it was the worst. I cried on the attic alone, squeezing a warm blanket in my hands, looking outside of the little round dirty window and just felt empty. There was nothing to live for, nothing at all. I never knew why I cried but I just kept going. And the rain was the world crying along with me, helping me to release the senseless pain I carried inside of me. The world was beautiful. But for me, it was dark. It was cold. It was nothing.
I didn't know the reason which I still have no idea. It was the first time in ten years I felt like this. Like someone was trying to suffocate me, I could not breath freely. All the emotions crashing into each other and creating something so powerful. Something with more energy than an atomic bomb could hold. Something that wipes away everything that's surrounding me. Creating an empty blackness, a black hole, with no sounds, no thoughts, no nothing. Time feels like nothing.
It had been the death that had arouse these feelings again.
But I believe it's only the most wisest people who can feel this sad, feel the deep deep sorrow. That's what I had always thought. May it be a way to survive or just a plain thought. That only those can be so broken because only they know how much pain it means, how painful it is. Only them, only then... I want to say: look around you. Who is the happiest might be the saddest. Who is the wisest might be the dummest, suffering with a pain without a reason. How stupid is that? And this is what I am. What I see. What I feel. Look around you and listen. It's not always how it seems. Very seldom it is.
Those are the artists that paint the world beautiful, trying to hide the ugly truth and emptiness only they themselves can see. And the other people enjoy the pure happiness created for them to never see the backstage. The true artists are sad. If someone admires an artist, he admires misery. The wounds under the artist's jacket sleeves. Scars. Broken bones. Bad blood. Artists are mental. And that's the art of being an artist. Seeing, feeling something the others possibly can't. If someone doesn't understand an artwork, he isn't artistic. He is blind. He can't see the other eternity: the bubble inside of an artist's mind.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm listening... Listening to the never-ending gossiping around me as I try to just enjoy my healthy lunch before another rapping class.
"What if she'll be a part of the Pink Punch?" someone worries.
"No," her friend gasps. "It can't be so. She's not that good."
"Do you think she understands what we're talking yet?"
"You know, our language is one of the hardest to learn. Of course she doesn't."
But Finnish is just as hard to learn as Korean, I think to myself. I know very well what they're talking about.
I have had other things to worry about lately. How my brothers will survive? What Joakim thinks about me as he saw me walking out of the house in an all-black outfit with white lilys in my hands? Does he still remember me? What about mom? If she had the chance to tell me something, would she have wanted me to stay? Should I be at home taking care of everything? I don't know if Robert even knows how to keep the apartment clean...
I sigh deeply. And then I stand up and take the tray to the cafeteria's kitchen.
"Have a nice day," the lovely ahjummas say to me and I thank them for the food and with a polite smile on my face although I'm having one of the worst days in my life. I know I should be strong. I should be ready to hear about my future tomorrow, about my new group and the members I will have to move in a new dorm with. I just don't feel ready yet. Not now when everything is so black.
I head back to the class room with other trainees who are not talking to me. They have started talking to me less and less the closer the day of my group forming has come. I don't know why they even bothered to treat me well at first. At least my roommates talk to me.
"Oh, hi BaBo," I greet the girl in black as I haven't seen her for a long time, only by a glimpse since the party. She has been keeping busy. I even saw her in a commercial on TV.
"Hi," she gives me a weird look and I feel less interest in talking to her. Even she takes me as a threat. It's ridiculous. I mean, all the trainees are basically threats to each other but each of them has still made friends and are having a good time when I myself am always alone. Do I really deserve this? I guess I do.
I sit alone on the left side of the room. At times like this I really miss Finland and Sara. She was always with me at classes. I feel the need to text her but I'm a good student and so I don't take the phone out of my handbag. I wish I could...
At dinner time I get to visit the dorm before the evening's media class and dance practices. I walk the same path back as I always do. It's misty and my hair becomes fuzzy and curly and I hate it. But nothing can make this day worse. It's already so bad. Or that's what I had thought.
As I walk towards the parking lot in front of the dormitory and look up, I see someone dressed in a long black coat leaning against the wall and now glancing at my direction. Why is everyone wearing black today, I wonder.
"And what are you? A ghost?" I mumble as I get to the door. I'm just so tired, both physically and mentally. But mostly mentally. Kiko corrects her position and looks at me sharply.
"Aren't you scared?" she asks me, frowning.
"Scared? Of whom?" I'm just a little bit surprised.
"I'm sorry, but whatever you came to tell me, I'm just too tired to hear about it right now."
I dig the key card out of my handbag but she steals it from me. I look up into her furious-looking eyes. She's still beautiful. And I still wished I had never met her. I wish I had never even liked GD so that I wouldn't need to deal with her. And that if something shows how tired I am
"If I come here from Japan just to tell you something, you little girl, sit down and listen," she says angrily and turns around to head to the park.
"Ahh," I huff. I wish this would be only a nightmare but it's very real. I just don't know how long I can take this anymore...
Notes
COMEBACK
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Teaser for chapter 2
