Gold lives inside you

Dayrise, sunshine and then; you

Smile for me, won’t you?

—

One.

You wish you could describe the feeling in you when the day breaks and you have to face everything you had left behind yesterday night. It feels like stagnancy. You feel like static. You're floating on thin air and you could fall at any moment. You like the thrill. You like the feeling.

Of course, it's fleeting. 

You can never manage to hold onto it for more than a moment. It brings you back to reality. The dull sunlight filling your room. 

Get up.

Pillows in a mess, lost in the blankets you kicked off last night. A subtle ache in your neck. You blink. 

Get up. What did you have to do in the morning, again? You said you would do something productive. Paint? Exercise? Read that book you bought a month ago? Cook something nice for yourself? What was it?

You don't know. You don't remember. You can't remember what you wrote down in a scramble before you went to sleep. Fine. Just do one of those things. 

Something.

Anything.

Just get up.

Get out of bed. 

But do you really need to do the things you wanted to do? 

No, not really. You’ll do it later. Not now. 

Now, sleep for an extra hour. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything. It’s alright.

You fall asleep again before you can ask yourself, is it?

Two. 

. You slept in. 

Are you going to panic?

No. You’re not. That’s counterproductive. It’s about 7: 30. You can manage to get ready in about twenty minutes, catch the bus at eight and clock in fifteen minutes later. Maybe you should hurry. You don’t like doing things in a rush, though. It’ll be alright. You don’t have to worry. 

It’s Wednesday and you skip breakfast, again. When you grab your keys from your desk, the unfinished artwork mocks you. You ignore the bold, unintelligible you can do it! I can do it! Finishing this in the morning! written in your journal. Your roommate looks — well, she’s in a rather peculiar position on the couch. When did she even come back last night? She doesn’t look wasted but man, the exhaustion on her face! Even as she was asleep — her life must be hell. 

It could be luck. It could be fate. It could be absolutely nothing at all, but you’d like to think there’s some meaning to the bus being late exactly on the same day you are. What’s the worst that could come out of being late to work by a few minutes, anyway? Jeongho would shout at you, maybe. You’d have to bear the judgemental stares of your coworkers. Then? That’s it, right? It would only last for a few minutes. 

The bus is packed. You manage to find a seat and sigh in relief. 

An old woman boards the bus at the second stop and you take quite some time to consider offering your seat to her or not. You should, because it’s basic human decency and you’d also look noble in front of all these strangers. Reluctance holds you back. You don’t know why. 

A man at the back is quicker than you. Yeah, sure. Quicker than you. 

What a showoff. 

If you did the same, would you be the showoff?

Damn, would you? You’re such a ty person. You can’t believe you considered letting a poor old lady suffer like that. You don’t even deserve to be sitting right now.

Willing the thoughts to go away, you take in a deep breath. Summer is setting in, isn’t it? It’s hot inside here. Your shoulders relax as your exhale. 

Who was going to be the supervisor today? Jongin? — No, he comes in on Fridays, so it was Joohyun. 

Wait. 

Joohyun?

, you’re ed. Why do you have to be late on the day Joohyun would be at the restaurant? You did this last week too! She probably thinks you’re a lazy good-for-nothing slob. Or at least she will from today. God, why do you always embarrass yourself in front of the women you like? 

You’re going to be late and Joohyun will know that. Man, why do you do this to yourself?

Why do you always sabotage yourself?

Three. 

“Seulgi, are you planning on coming late at least one day of the week just for the fun of it? You said last week would be the last time.”

You’re only twenty minutes late, come on. It’s just 8: 35. “I’m sorry, Jeongho. I’m just,”

“Just what? Listen, when you were slacking off for whole days together I didn’t say anything because you were going through a rough patch. You need to get a grip, Seulgi. You can’t go on like this forever.” 

You nod. He seems displeased, but he leaves you alone. You’re doing your best, though. You’re trying. You’re still holding on. 

Maybe it would be better to just give up. 

Joohyun waves at you from the counter. Her smile is light and you hope your smile conveys the same emotions. She must feel pity for you. Maybe it’s only out of sympathy that she takes notice of you. 

“Nice shirt, Ms. Kang.” She says, her eyebrows wiggling as she does a one over of you. Your ears heat up. You hope she doesn’t notice. What was so special about your shirt, anyway?

Oh, dammit. How could you not notice you were wearing your keep calm and smoke weed shirt? No wonder everyone was eyeing you strangely on the bus. You thought it was just because well, you’re you; and now you feel embarrassed. A hand goes to your neck out of reflex. Your nervous laughter is blatant and you can’t find any words to say. “I was kinda in a rush in the morning…”

Joohyun is nice so she giggles. It’s nice. Warm, and fuzzy. Joohyun is nice. 

You like your job. It’s not the best thing in the world, but you like doing it. It’s nice that you’re doing something you enjoy. You might not be as good as Soojung yet, but you’re good enough. You’ll get there someday.

You crack your knuckles and get to work. For a second it seemed like Soojung was going to throw you out of the kitchen for being late and “disrespecting her food and art” but she didn’t and you’re grateful for that. 

Sooyoung bumps your shoulder. The look on her face is pensive. “Hey, you alright?”

Why wouldn’t you be? How do you feel?

You feel nothing. Are you supposed to feel something? You just feel neutral. You feel like gray. How are you supposed to feel? “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Just checking in,” She doesn’t return the gaze you have on her. 

The dough is sticky and hard to pry off your fingers. You frown. Out of the blue, you feel a bolt of dread strike your chest. It melts as it settles in your lungs and you hate the feeling? Why?

Why now?

Why do you continue to feel this way? 

Weren’t you supposed to be getting better?

“Seulgi! Are you done with the dough yet?” 

“Yes! I’ll bring it right over!”

Four. 

It must be ten o'clock or something. Customers are just starting to rush in. You keep making miniscule mistakes. They're just enough to tick you off. You want your efforts to be perfect. You're not focusing. You should really start eating breakfast. 

The onions are cut uneven and not the way you're intended to cut them. It's okay. You're not working hard enough. You'll do better next time. 

Are you the only one who feels suffocated in here? You take your eyes off the tomatoes you cut so delicately to see how your coworkers were faring. It was hot, right? You feel a bead of sweat roll down your neck. 

You're not concentrating. You're not in the right mind today. (You weren't yesterday, or the day before that either.) 

Why are you such a up?

Why can’t you do better, even after all this time?

Concentrate, just for another hour. 

Time will not wait for you, so you have to get through this. Just another hour. 

Five. 

Finally, it's your break. 

What were you even waiting for?

There's no one you