GET FREE [jaeyong]

[17]

[SEVENTEEN]

"I am cold, can you hear? I will fly, with no known fear. And the ground taunts my wings. Plummet as I sing, plummet as I sing."

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SOMETIMES things just hurt.

Sometimes Taeyong looks in the mirror, and it feels like there's this endless void gnawing right where his heart is, digging deeper and deeper, and it hurts. It hurts so bad but he just glances back at his brown eyes and sees nothing in them, as if this internal turmoil wasn't happening right before himself, and then he looks back down and sees his fingers pinching into his skin.

Sometimes, he doesn't know what to feel. Taeyong doesn't even know if he feels anything. He knows he should be, maybe crying and spiraling into a chaotic mess, because as his mother says, 'what happened was traumatic', but it's like none of it has truly dawned upon him. He wants to cry and can cry on occasion, but there's this other urge that compels him much more than anything else and it revolves around one thing—

distraction.

He didn't know it at the time—why he wanted to cut more often, despite knowing deep down he shouldn't and that it was ripping him apart at the seams; why he wanted to sleep literally all the time, but ended up staring at the ceiling doing absolutely nothing for hours; why he wanted to skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and pick apart his physical imperfections constantly for what reason he wasn't aware. He knew that he hated himself before, but now he's shone a huge light like the ones on movie sets right above his body and suddenly he can't stand himself at all, and that he needs to do something about it—

he didn't know it at the time, but all this was complex but so stupidly simple: he was doing it to avoid what was actually going on. What he was feeling inside, far deep, deep down into his enigmatic brittle soul, and what had just occurred a couple weeks ago.

Taeyong was replacing problems with more problems, and once again—he didn't know it at the time—but he was destroying himself inside and out, and eventually, there will be no way to escape it. The only thing he was doing was hiding from reality itself and making the maze to get out much more intricate and massive.

As of now, there was no refuge. Nothing to pick him up off his feet along the way, save for the councilor who he merely opened up to at school and the psychiatrist he'd only spoken to once. He had Ten, but truthfully, Ten knew nothing. Anyway, how could he tell Ten what he was dealing with if he couldn't find the answer himself?

The boy lied on his bedroom floor, thinking over and over about these things, his arms sprawled out onto the soft carpet and eyes lament on the clothes he'd set out for himself for the day ahead of him. He didn't want to get up today, nor did he want to go with his dad to get a prescription.

The psychiatrist prescribed him antidepressants called 'Zoloft' and a panic attack medication called 'Klonopin'. He really, like really, didn't want to be taking any medication. His parents advised that he'd have to, and supposedly they would help him, yet something didn't feel right taking drugs. He'd have to do it if not for himself, for his parents, so he concluded he shouldn't dwell on it for too long.

Maybe something was wrong with him to be prescribed these pills. Isn't Zoloft supposed to alter something in your brain, like the chemicals? Because if so, Taeyong assumed that maybe people thought he was super fucked up. It wouldn't be too outlandish of an assumption considering his parents said that he didn't have a choice and 'it was for his safety', as if he wasn't responsible for making his own decisions.