WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT MAY MAKE READERS UNCOMFORTABLE

 

 

Thank you.

 

If you ever close your eyes for long enough and think back to everything you’ve ever done, everything that has ever made an impact, do you ever have regrets? Is there anything that haunts you, something, like an itch, that you cannot pinpoint but bothers you the most? But then the more you think about it, the closer you get to finding where that irritation is, you lose sight of everything else? That one thought consumes you and you’re lost trying to find what it is you’re trying to find. The journey of life becomes nothing more but a backdrop to your strange thoughts, an ongoing event, day in, day out, awakening, eating, meeting, working, travelling, drinking, thinking, thinking… thinking again and again…

As an office worker, some next irrelevant fool whose life is ‘still beginning’, I can’t help but believe there is something in the past I have lost. And I’m scared this emptiness will never end until I find it. But I don’t know what it could be.

I’m married. I know my parents. I have an older brother. I work hard. The money is good. My life is a good one, if you count what society calls successful ‘good’. Heck, I even have a child on the way but, still, somehow, still… I’m numb. All I can think about is confusion. I can’t think straight, or about relevant things. Only the unknown. It’s like my brain is a planet that is yet to be discovered, a new species under the heavy oceans that has never been seen by another life before. Things that could give me a verdict of insanity. Maybe there is something for this. A clinical name that will make the emptiness of my life turn into emptiness itself.

“Kyungsoo,” someone draws my unwilling attention. I don’t want to turn around but I do. It’s as if I’m watching myself from above. Like my brain is detached. Like my body isn’t mine. “You’ve been sitting there for thirty minutes doing absolutely nothing.”

I can’t even recall the name of whoever is standing in front of me. All I can vaguely remember is he works on the same floor, somewhere. Doing something. But I don’t care. I just want him to hurry up and leave me alone. I’ve already done all the necessary work for today. I’m waiting for something else to occupy me. I’m so scared of being alone with my thoughts that I scurry through everything. When did I become such a rat?

“Are you listening to me, Kyungsoo?” he says. My eyes aren’t even focused on him. I’m looking beyond at the particles of the universe, waiting for each and every atom to attack and destroy this daunting emptiness.

“You’ve been promoted, Kyungsoo,” he tells me. Maybe his voice sounds jealous. Maybe happy. Maybe he cares about me. Maybe not. I don’t know. I don’t care. This promotion is just another step in my life, another great joy that I can’t feel. I wish there was something that cared, an ounce of happiness, a buzz, a warmth—something. But I don’t feel anything. I just don’t care. I want to find out what I’ve lost and when I’ll remember it. But there’s nothing. I have everything. Every friend, everyone I have ever known is someone I still know one way or another.

“Wow, congratulations!” another voice shouts out to me. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. They’re just words and they’re killing me. Why can’t anyone see I just don’t care and want to continue my life without this unnecessary hassle? No one needs to pause their lives to interact with mine. It’s useless.

But I notice someone who’s sitting opposite me that I’ve never heard or seen before. I actually decide to look at her. I’m sure it’s a her. She’s giving me this look and I can’t place it. It kind of creeps me out. It’s startling really. It’s like she’s focusing her whole entire being on me. And I’m wondering why I’ve never seen her before. But it’s something in her eyes. It hits me somewhere and something is happening to me. I’ve been promoted today. But I feel so empty. Her eyes. I’m tearing up.

I know what it is.

Her eyes. She can read me. I just know it. She must. Because I haven’t felt like this before, like someone knows how I feel, that I’m empty. Her eyes are screaming at me.

They pity me.

I have to get up.

“Thank you,” I quickly say before walking off. Someone calls my name again and I push past a couple of bodies. But I don’t want to listen.

The tears are pouring out already.

 

I go back to my desk and there are a bunch of flowers on top. The guy who told me I’ve been promoted is my manager. It came back to me. He’s the guy that gave me the job. The guy that brought me here to success. Society’s success. I’m just thankful that it’s the end of the working day. Everyone knows me as a quiet guy. No one is offended by me. It’s one of the reasons I’m still here. The others are… survival in this world.

“Hey,” a voice I don’t recognise calls out to me and I’m suddenly praying it’s not the girl with those eyes.

I turn to see who made that human voice that somehow transfixes into a form of communication in my head. And it’s her. The look in her eyes have changed. Instead, they’re quite bright. But not too bright, not exhausting bright like my wife, just a perfect balance of bright. Not an overwhelmingly stinging brightness that seems to away at the rest of who I am. No, not that. Not the brightness that makes me wonder what it is that makes me feel like I’ve lost something.

“You don’t say much, do you?” she says. She isn’t asking me. She’s just giving me another look. I can’t place that one. I analyse things all the time. There’s proof. That that look from before was pity. But this one, this one’s a cracker. Something untouchable. Or maybe I’m so lost in my thoughts I’ve lost how to function as a normal human being too.

I’ve always been like this. I don’t know what happiness is. A word so foreign to me, it’s alien. It’s not me. But I want to be. Everyone wants to be, right? I want to know what it feels like. But maybe lots of humans feel like I do. Maybe I am happy but I don’t know it. Maybe the world has drained away the expectations of reality that I want an emotion that doesn’t exist.

Back in high school, I had friends. Me, Kai, Sehun, busting up the clubs, dancing on tables with the pretty girls. I used to get wasted, smoke, party hard. Kiss the cute girls. I was trying to drive away this emptiness. But getting married, growing up, I lost my cover. I lost my only way of feeling euphoric. Maybe that was when I was happy? I don’t know. I don’t know if I felt empty then. I wish I could rewind time just to make sure. To make sure that maybe I was happy then.

“Are you okay?” her voice brings me back. I just look at her and think what is wrong with her.

“Fine,” I reply. Maybe it’s best to stay away from colleagues. I have done so far. That’s probably why I don’t recognise her. Even though her eyes made me cry, I’ll just forgive her and move on. Forget her. I’ll just brush her off. Go home. Cry.

“Look, I’m not being funny or nothing but you look pretty for a guy who’s just had a promotion,” she… she shook her head at me. Disapproval? That’s the last thing I need. Disapproval. She disapproves of what I look like.

“You disapprove of what I look like,” I say out loud, slowly, drawing out every single syllable. It’s become a habit now. I don’t mean to be difficult. It’s just how I am. Difficult. A guy who wants to work out what he’s missing and keep to himself. I want to stay private. Not many people know me well. For a stupid woman with rude eyes to make me cry and judge how I look— It doesn’t make sense.

“No, what I mean is, you look pretty ,” she says back. “Tired, worn-out, that kinda thing? Dude go have a holiday, yeah? You need it, definitely. Pronto, like.”

She is clearly instructing me what to do with my life and I just don’t like it. I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. Who does she think she is to tell me what to do? Or tell me what I look like to her. I sleep fine. Too much, maybe. But who is she to judge me? Why do people on this Earth think that they’re allowed to say what they want to people? Do they not care that people don’t want to listen to other people sometimes? I mean, not all people are bad, and not all people say bad things, and not all people are like me, and some people can smile back and laugh things off, people… people can react any way they want but… who is she, to tell me, when she doesn’t, doesn’t know me, what to do, when she doesn’t even know who I am and I don’t even know her what is she thinking— She’s judging me. She’s already laughing at me. She must think I look stupid. I’m not stupid. I know what I need. I don’t need a stranger to tell me what I need. I know she’s not exactly a stranger but she’s strange. She’s ing strange. A ing strange piece of of a human who is judging me. I didn’t ask for the promotion. I don’t ask for attention. I don’t ask for people’s opinions of me when I have this big ing thing inside of me boiling up all of me, eating at me, making me feel like I’m a ing lunatic when I’m ing sane, I’m ing sane—

“ off,” I say. But the words don’t really come out. Because my chest ing hurts. And my throat feels tight.

And I’m hyperventilating. Hard. It ing hurts.

“Oh, oh , are you okay?”

I’m on my knees and I’m looking down. I can’t believe it. What is my body doing to me? It’s betraying me. I know I just got really angry on the inside but I’m fine. I can handle anything. I’m working hard, I got a promotion. It’s… it’s okay to feel angry sometimes. It’s okay to flip. It’s okay to vent all of my emotions on the inside and circulate them like I’m an old washing machine that uses the same water over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and ing over—

I’m crouching now.

And some people have come rushing over. I can barely make out what they’re saying. I’m ing fine, I just need a moment, to catch, my breath, and it, it will be fine, I swear to God, these people. I’m embarrassing myself. Everyone is laughing at me because I’m acting like a toddler. And I don’t know why my body is betraying me. Inside, I’m just fine. I’m just a little lost, that’s all, a little lost. But I’m normal, for Heaven’s sake.

“Call the ambulance, I think he’s having a heart attack,” someone shouts out loud. Daft. I’m not having a heart attack. I can’t be. I’m healthy. I just need a ing moment but no one here can understand that I’m fine. They’re making a fuss over a complete waste of time. I’m such a waste of time. All this attention. A ing ambulance.

But I can’t get my words out.

And the truth is, is that I’m ing creeping out right now and I can’t stop it. My head is like a balloon. All these thoughts are poking out of my eyes, nose, ears, lips. They’re slamming my head over and over like a heavy door being thrown shut. I can hardly breathe. I think, I think, something has to be wrong with me. But that woman. She didn’t have to be so damn harsh on a man who’s dead inside.

I really can’t breathe. My body feels numb. What the heck is happening to me?

“He’s not having a heart attack,” the girl sharply calls out. She must have snatched the phone from someone’s hand because something was thrown and there was the sound of something breaking. I’m still not able to catch my breath.

The girl is bent down beside me.

“Kyungsoo, breathe with me,” she says and then starts deeply breathing in and out. I try to copy but it’s hard and my breaths won’t calm down. I continue to try. She yells at someone to bring me water. She’s holding my arm gently, helping me get back to my seat. By the time I’ve calmed down, there’s a glass of water on my desk next to the flowers.

“Are you okay?” she asks me again, her eyes full of burdening worry. I hate myself. I ing hate myself.

I can’t bring myself to answer. I take the water because my throat is parched and I drink it all down. I’ve already decided to quit. I’ll ring in tomorrow. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. . I have to leave.

This is not what my life should be. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with the feelings of emptiness. It’s got to end. it. It’s too overbearing and I make everyone worry. My wife, my brother, my parents. I’m going to leave everyone and move somewhere else. Remote. Alone.

Kai was right. I’m not the type to settle down.

I’m a free bird that wants to fly away from everything and everyone, with no responsibilities, with no problems, soaring over the world, looking down at everyone else.

Freedom. That’s it.

That’s it. That’s ing it. That emptiness. All this ing emptiness. Inside of me. I know what I lost.

I lost my freedom.

And with it, my will to live.