Studio Sobs

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Jisung POV

I don't know where the hell I'm going, but I'm just running away from the scene that I just created. I see another dance room nearing as I run, then causing me to slow down. Once I reach my destination, I quickly open the door and harshly close it behind me, startling myself with the loud 'bang' it had made. 

I just stand there for a good minute, retracing everything that happened in the other practice room earlier. All the worried stares from the other members as I left and the uncomfortable atmosphere as Changbin apologized. I slide down the door, curling up. I place my hands over my eyes and tears begin to pour out. I can't control it. I can't control the uneven breaths and heavy eyes.

It's over. Now they know. They know that I have anxiety. They know that I can break, that I'm fragile. They saw the side of me that wasn't their typical happy virus, their sunshine. They saw everything that I didn't want them to see. That's it. It's over. I'm screwed. I've blown my cover. They're never going to like me anymore. They're just going to see me as a big burden. They're going to want to kick me out of the group now. What if they stop talking to me? What if they pretend like I don't exist? Would I have to leave on my own?

DAMMIT! FUCK!

I punch the floor, holding it with my other hand shortly after. I bite my lower lip to keep in my muffled sobs. For 30 minutes, I just cry, punching the floor below me, lip bleeding due to biting it too harshly. I then stop, not wanting my knuckles to bruise up and bleed. Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. 

"Maybe I should post out my anger," I whisper to myself. I sound dead, my throat hurt when I spoke and it sounded rough, raspy.

I open my phone and go onto my Instagram, pressing on that familiar plus sign on the bottom of the screen. Taking a large breath, I start to type.

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Unknown

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Unknown._ I think I just blew my cover. I'm so fucking tired. I just don't want to be here anymore. It hurts to do anything. It hurts to open my eyes and realize that I'm living reality. It hurts to build up that motivation to pull myself out of bed and get on with the day. The second I get out of bed, the second I place my feet on the floor, one after the other, I constantly think about going back and sleeping the day through. But I can't do that because I have a career to keep and a scolding to avoid. Every single fucking step just feels heavy and I'm over it. Over it all. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm tired of fighting. I can't fight anymore. I'm sorry...Maybe just for a little longer, I'll try. The thing is ... I feel like I'm starting to get stressed with what I'm going through. I feel stressed every second of my life and I just want to sleep and never wake up. I feel so overly sensitive about everything because the smallest things would start to stress me out and make me wanna cry. From there I would shame myself for even crying in the first place because I think that crying is really annoying when I do it. There are so many worries that trigger my anxiety. I think I'm going to end it off here before I start thinking about ways to kill myself  :) Thank you for taking the time to read this, I know it was kinda just a waste. 

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I try to get up from the door, but my legs give in and I end up on the floor again. I end up just crawling towards the mirror, resting my head against it once I reach the wall. My tears are still pouring, this time I'm just letting them get on the floor other than the already soaked sleeves of my hoodie. 

I stay that for a while, longer than I expected, then I hear a knock on the door. I quickly raise my sleeve up to my face and wipe my face clean from tears. I sniff a couple of times to make my nose less runny. I look at the mirror and pat down my face to make it a little less poofy. Of course, that doesn't cover up the fact that my eyes are red and puffy, my nose is still slightly running and red as well, and the rough and raspy voice. I tried my best though and I'll try to put up an act. The door opens, revealing a line of light and a tall figure. I squint at the figure, trying to find out who it is and I then quickly stand up from the floor. 

It's Chan.  

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