therapy ➳ park jimin

t h r e e

"Lina, how are you feeling today?" Yejun enquired with a measure of curiosity and concern.

"Fine," Her voice contrasted greatly with her assertive response.

She didn't sound 'fine' at all, nor did she look it. Her short auburn hair was no longer neatly clipped back, but messily covering her face like a fringe which she didn't have. Her milk-white skin appeared to be impossibly paler than usual, and the profound black circles underneath her emotionless eyes seemed to be a few shades darker than the previous week.

'It's just another dark day' Lina chanted silently inside her head, unsure who she was actually convincing, either everybody else or herself.

"You can tell us if you're feeling sad, Lina. We're all here to help."

She gazed around the circular arrangement, her eyes lingering a few seconds longer over Park Jimin, the boy sat silently opposite her with his usual look of blankness on show.

"I just told you that I'm fine." She huffed and sank further into the uncomfortable chair.

At that moment, Lina desperately wished that she wasn't there, in that room, being offered help by a man who constantly insists everything is going to fine. She felt sad, angry, stressed--and she didn't even know why.

"Yoongi, how are you today?" Yejun asked and the blonde boy's small smile widened.

"Good, actually. Really good,"

"That's wonderful. Care to share why?"

"I don't know, I just feel happy. It might just be the medicine talking, I'm not sure, but it feels good."

Lina felt jealous, really jealous. She wanted to feel happy, too. 

"Subin. How about you?" Yejun asked. "How are you feeling today?"

She shrugged. "Just the same," 

It was evident that there was no direction in this hopeless conversation. Yejun asked each member one by one until everybody had answered and no progress had been made.

"Okay, this isn't working. Let's discuss what we like to do, our hobbies. Jimin, you start." 

"Um, okay," he muttered and stood up, unconsciously beginning to alter the positions of his sleeves as his pale hands gripped the ends, "As you all know, I like art. I like to draw what I find either interesting or beautiful. I believe every piece of artwork regardless of the quality is a masterpiece, because it isn't the accuracy of the strokes of the specific colours used, it's the story the art tells which makes it beautiful."

"Subin, you next," Yejun nodded.

"Okay. I like music, like, I really fücking like music. I can play the bass guitar and the piano. It's in my blood and veins, I couldn't live without it." 

"Miseo," 

"I like to write poems," the shy girl admitted. "Please don't laugh, I know it's silly but it's what I love-"

"It's not stupid, Minseo." Yejun assured her kindly. 

Lina felt sick. Hearing all of these people discussing the talents which she didn't own only caused her increasing sadness to spread even further through her. She couldn't sing, dance, write poems, draw or play an instrument. She felt useless. 

"Lina, how about you?"

"I don't have any talents." She responded emotionally and although Yejun looked evidently taken back by her assertive tone, his constant reassuring smile didn't falter. 

"I'm sure there's one thing that-"

"No, there's not," she snapped. "I'm talentless." 

The drive home was silent. Lina's mom struggled to say anything to her daughter who sat blankly adjacent to her. She wanted to ask how the therapy session went, but the expression on Lina's face was all it took for her to figure it out independently. She, too, felt useless. But not in the same sense. 

"I'm going upstairs." Were the first words Lina said to her mother. 

Lina sat in her room and cried. She didn't know why, but she was just so upset and angry and stressed, she didn't know what else to do. Her tears fuelled her urge to release some anger, and this time, her bedroom wall took the wrath. One large indention later, she felt just as upset. 

"Angelina, are you okay? What was that noise?" She heard her mother shout worriedly from downstairs. 

She wanted to respond but she simply couldn't. Her mouth opened but nothing came out, just an empty silence which she desperately longed to break. 

This is more than just a dark day, she thought. She'd never felt like that before. 

Her 'dark days' were becoming to be something else, something else which were definitely more frequent. She didn't know how long it would take before the darkness would overwhelm her, she only knew that she wanted it to be soon. 

an; sorry angst af