sincerely, p.jm || jjk + pjm

his perspective

A/N: I'm gonna use this chapter to go more in depth about jimins mental illness and how it effects his life cause I feel like it can be confusing :?)

Warning: mentions of eating disorder

Third POV

Each day started just like the last, the continual routine of Jimin waking up to the an hour before everyone else in his home in hopes of leaving for school before anyone could notice. When it first started – the diagnosis- every morning his family would make an attempt at conversation to impose Jimin to utter a word, maybe even a sentence. No matter how many time they tried, how many "how are you honeys?" or "Feeling any better Chims" he received the response was always the same, Jimin would either give a small shake of the head or slouch his shoulders as if to say he didn't have any response. It's not that Jimin was afraid to talk, he wasn't mute, it's just that everytime he did talk to his family his response came out monotoned giving people the idea that he wasn't interested. Therefore when his parents asked how he was doing he'd rather say nothing then speak and dissapoint them with his aloof response. Deep down Jimin knew he had the same emotions as everyone else, its just putting it into words thats the problem.

   The best way Jimin could describe his life was that it felt like one big play and he was the centre role yet he felt like he was behind the scenes. Just like how the tech engineers observe and analyze what the actors are doing, Jimin feels as if he watching life from the sidelines, but feels detached from the emotions swelling in the people around him.

After awhile the majority of his family given up hope and decided Jimin was a lost cause and attempted to avoid any contact with him at all in fears of experiencing the awkwardness or second hand embarrassment. Although the one person that kept trying and wouldn't give up was Jimins mom, you could tell she loved her son, not to say that the others didn't but her and Jimin used to be very close and Jimin went from telling her everything to nothing at all. She couldn't handle not knowing what was going in her sons head and why he became so despondent.

      When Jimin was diagnosed with Alexithymia the word "how?" was a constant phrase in his life, to this day the origin of his diagnosis is still unknown to anyone besides Jimin himself and reviving the day it arose is to traumatizing for Jimin to want to even write about to his parents let alone verbally communicate. 

       As Jimin made his way downstairs, making sure to take light steps as to not make the already worn floors creak, he pulled out his phone to check his messages. Only a few missed calls and texts from Seungwan but other than that nothing. Jimin slowly opened the door to the bathroom and slipped in quickly so the small light seeping in wouldn't be noticed by his parents who were only a few rooms down. Once he thought he was in the clear he slowly turned on the sink and began to fixing his fluffy mess of bedhead.

     After what seemed like hour of blow drying and brushing Jimin exited the bathroom and went downstairs, grabbed his bag and walked out the door. The golden hour was near and what was once a deep blue sky filled with stars now transformed into shades of orange and pinks with clouds lazily cascading across the sky, light rain falling them. Its moments like these that make Jimin reflect back onto his past and life before it became so dark. The autumn afternoons spent at parks roughing around in leaves with the crisp wind blowing through his locks as he raced his friend. Those autumn nights turned to winter evenings spent inside watching rom-coms and mocking how cheesy they were to his friend but never admitting how much he actually enjoyed the humor.

     2 years later, as winter comes to an end spring rolls around and with spring comes rain, fit weather for running around and jumping in puddles with friends but instead these days Jimin finds himself observing from the window of his room just listening to the rain pour down and the droplets of water begin to condensate on his window, everyone once in awhile making little drawing with his fingers on the foggy glass.