Youngjae had felt lost for the longest time. For years, he had tried everything to keep that bit of the darkness from reaching the deepest depths of his soul, but had utterly failed.

It began with the realization that he wasn’t who he thought he was, that life wasn’t what he thought it was. He’d take walks in the dreary atmosphere of midnight, an activity that once brought him the most peace, and had felt absolutely empty.

This feeling of solitude was not the brightened kind that so long ago had soaked through his veins and brought about a sensation of peace and self-assertion, no. What Youngjae felt that cold evening and through all those evenings that followed was the kind of solitary loneliness that chills those who suffer its wrath to the very pit of their consciousness, freezing over their minds and preventing any sort of joy from ever again penetrating the thick layer of ice that had formed in layers atop their heart.

Youngjae had tried to lose himself in the world of fantasy, reading and re-reading all those stories in which a happy ending was guaranteed alongside the conclusion of the lackluster es and pitiful details. He’d read pieces from many of the world’s greatest philosophers, searching in their words for a new way to think, skimming and praying that the next sentence would be the one that would change his perspective on life and leave him smiling once more. However, no sentence of this nature was ever to be found.

For what felt like hours, Youngjae would find himself holed up in his miniscule bathroom, staring at the reflection of the person he found in the mirror. Youngjae knew it wasn’t him, that it couldn’t be him. There was something in the eyes of the stranger that made the entire face seem somehow devoid. Now, devoid of what was the real question at hand. He could never figure it out.

He’d try to smile, really smile, but his lips looked strained, as if they would crack beneath the pressure that he’d placed upon them. Puffing out his cheeks, he’d turn away, disappointed and feeling worse than he’d ever felt prior.

In time, he got sick of seeing this ugly person following him around wherever he went. In his apartment, he’d taken to covering all mirrored surfaces with his thickest black tablecloth. Even his spoons, with their vortex of distortion, he had painted black until they couldn’t have reflected the surface of the sun itself.

He could have just gotten rid of all these things, sure. But in the back of his mind, there was something stopping Youngjae, some glint of hope that someday, he would find his old self, returned and smiling back at him once more.

-----

Following the end of his spell of reading, Youngjae had lost all faith in the world of academia. Instead of searching for solace in the furthering of his mind, perhaps, he could find solace in destroying it. Using this idea as his guide, Youngjae decided to become a drug addict.

He’d never tried anything of this kind before so, naturally, he wasn’t entirely sure where to begin his journey. Taking a minute, he’d decided his best bet would be to go to the worst section of town. Youngjae was sure that, in time, he’d be able to track down some sort of someone who could scratch his newfound itch for illegal substances.

Getting into his car and driving off, Youngjae soon found himself to be exactly where he wanted. Parking in an abandoned lot, he’d left his car unlocked, keys dangling from the ignition. Really, he could care less if it got stolen, in the back of his mind, hell, he was even hoping for it. His glittering Lexus could then become just another thing he’d never need to worry about again. About two tons of weight lifted from his shoulders.

Walking down a back alley, Youngjae stumbled upon a homeless man and women having behind a dumpster. Clearing his throat, he asked. “Excuse me folks, but do you know where I could acquire some drugs of some kind?” The two stopped their movements, scanning their eyes over to Youngjae.

The man chuckled, pointed north, and grunted “If you keep that-a-way, you’ll find my man Bulls-eye. Tell ‘em Jackyboy sent you,” before pushing himself back into his female companion and beginning again where they had both left off.

At this, Youngjae smiled and nodded before continuing down the lane. Upon reaching the main stretch of road, Youngjae scanned his surroundings and sure enough, found a man standing just a few meters away and quickly approaching. This man had what seemed to be a permanent black eye, almost as though it were greenish-purple ink tattooed around the area. Soon, the two men found themselves face-to-face. As the stranger sized up Youngjae, the latter did just the same.

The man in question wore a cut-off pink shirt, with baggy jeans and brown work boots. Youngjae, in contrast, wore a full fitted suit with his maroon tie slightly loosened from around his neck, giving the ensemble a more casual feel, or so he thought. In his hands, the other man carried a paper bag with grease stains covering the bottom of the surface. Every so often, the man would put his face to the bag, take a huge whiff of whatever it was that was inside, and come back to lock his glazed eyes with Youngjae’s darkened ones.

“Hey kid. What are you looking for around these parts anyways?” The man, presumably Bulls-eye, asked Youngjae who replied, “Drugs of any kind will do, please.”

This answer seemed to catch Bulls-eye off guard a bit, but regaining his composure, he responsed, “What for?”

“Well, to become an addict sir. Here, take my money and give me anything you’ve got.”

Bulls-eye took the money then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small sheet wrapped tightly in tin foil. “Be careful not to touch the stuff with your hands, ruins the chemicals,” Bulls-eye said. As instructed, Youngjae unfolded the foil. Inside was a small sheet of paper with cartoon characters printed along the front. Watching, Bulls-eye smiled and whispered a quiet Be careful with this stuff, kid before returning back to his rightful place in the shadows of society.

Unsure of what to do with his drugs, Youngjae proceeded to swallow the entire sheet given to him in one gulp. Walking back to his car, he was not surprised to find it wasn’t there any longer. Shrugging, Youngjae began to walk back in the general direction from where he came. However, after awhile, everything in reality turned to goo, with puddles of color splashing around beneath his feet. 500 feet from his apartment, Youngjae found himself lost. Then the world flipped the switch and turned off, the moon ceasing to provide its light amid the ocean of darkness.

That night, Youngjae dreamed he had died. He’d drifted up to heaven and found a man with thick lips and dreaming eyes waiting for him at the gates. “Do you have clocks up here?” Youngjae had asked the man. “No,” was his straightforward response. Thinking about the length of eternity, Youngjae had grown afraid and retreated back down the stairway to earth, where at least a constant ticking could be heard to sound that another day was finally completed.

-----

Youngjae came to in the hospital four days later, hooked up to a breathing machine. Apparently, he had taken much too large a dosage of whatever it was that he’d been given. He spoke with two police officers that had arrived to inquire about his stolen car, but not wanting to socialize with them, Youngjae remained silent, looking out the window and up to the sun.

The food at the hospital was terrible, so Youngjae decided he would dump the contents of his tray into the toilet and then flush the lumpy carrots and unnamed meat down into the sewers. It’s fine, Youngjae reasoned, all food is just undigested anyways.

By the time night had fallen, Youngjae had gotten sick of his hospital stay and decided to go for a walk. Ripping the IV from his arm and slipping past the nurse, Youngjae quietly continued on down the winding roads, still wearing his hospital gown and nothing more.

On this walk, he’d begun to think about his situation as it stood. He supposed being a drug addict just wasn’t in the cards for him. Now, unsure of what else to do to curb his depression, Youngjae found himself at a complete standstill in his life. With no idea of who to turn to, Youngjae stopped and looked to his shadow to provide a bit of guidance. It was then that he spotted the flier taped to the wall.

Suicide 101: We'll teach you how to end it right.

Come Monday - Friday from 8pm to 10pm. Refreshments will be served.

Teacher: Jung Daehyun