One-Thirty-Six
Nayoung

135.

Nayoung knows she needs to stop. Knows that this is not healthy, that this is not helping, but there are so many comments and she knows what it is like to post them and not know if they are ever read, if they will ever be read.

But most sites will not close. Most sites stick around. Most sites will still be there for the artist to idly thumb through in the car, in their dorm, in the dark of night when they need a light.

Their site is not most sites.

Their life is not most lives.

They are not most people and Nayoung knows that she is on a clock if she wants to read them, because more are being posted than she can keep up and she knows that there are more books being made in the world than a human can ever read in their lifetime but she really does not care about books and other things like that because these comments, these comments that their fans have put their hearts and souls into, these comments are all going to disappear and she cannot read them all.

She cannot throw all the starfish into the sea.

She needs to calm herself down, knows logically that every comment she reads is one more comment that reaches them, knows that if she gets even more upset that reading will start to get hard.

Thank you.

We’ll wait for you.

You’ve done us proud.

We love you.

We’ll always be here for you.

Come back soon!

We miss you.

Thank you.

You’re the best.

You’ve worked so hard.

We’re so proud of you.

You’re amazing.

Thank you.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Nayoung swipes the page away, thinks about putting her phone down but decides to keep it on her. She ducks out of her room, takes the same familiar few paces to the dining room only to find the table set with all of her favorite food and none of the rest of the family there yet.

Nayoung’s hands shake.

136.