IV. 

I am NOT HAPPY

CHANGBIN

My smiling face. I look at  it and look again and again but it still feels foreign. Why am I smiling? I can't remember. Was I really happy back then? Do I even know what true happiness feels like? Am I allowed to know that? I feel so frustrated. Caged. My skin doesn't feel like my own. Will I be punished if they find out about this? The clothes feel itchy, my throat burns. I am desperate. I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be alone. I feel like crying. I feel like breaking everything. I feel like quitting. Yet, my face doesn't reflect the turmoil in me. Habits are hard to fix. The phone rings and I am summoned. I close my eyes, put on my mask and walk out. Ready to smile for the camera. Even in the world without emotions, the celebrities still smile on TV and I am just one of the clowns.

"I feel as if I am waiting for something that isn't going to happen."

V.

I am NOT a COPY

SEUNGMIN

I am drawing. The model is right before me. My are precise. Controlled. Learned. I was created to create. That's what I was taught. Paint. Replicate what you see on the canvas. Nothing more, nothing less. I was told the world needs artists. That I can turn the darkness into something brighter. So every day, I come to this room and paint. Over and over again I paint the same thing. The realization hits me stronger that I would like to admit. I look around and see the paintings around me. All the same. All copies. Have I drawn them all or where there other painters here? I can't tell. My painting is no different than the rest. It lacks originality. For the first time I focus on it and see the figure screaming for help. Are we all like that too? Silently screaming inside for someone to save us. To notice how much we hurt. Do we wish to escape this hell? Afterall... We have created it ourselves. I am all alone in the room. Am I the last one to notice something is wrong? I angrily strike the painting. Enough. I am done. 

"Art is the lie that enables us to see the truth."

VI.

I am NOT INVISIBLE

MINHO

I am in school. I don't remember what the class was about, my thoughts are running wild. Today I woke up feeling weird. Different. As I sit in the class, my heart beats faster and faster. I am nervous, scared. I don't know the reason why. What makes me so terrified? As I look at my classmates it dawns on me. I don't remember their names. How many of us are in this class anyway? If I didn't show up today would anyone notice? We all look the same. We say and write the same things. We probably think the same. During the break everyone comes to the front and scribbles on the board. They say we should go through our rebellious phase here. But are we really rebelling? We just write nonsens letters and numbers, words that we have heard or read somewhere in writing that is hard to decipher. It doesn't mean anything. It shouldn't mean anything. However, the longer I look at the board, the more I notice things that I couldn't before. Things that aren't supposed to be written here. The word alone stands out the most. Do they feel as alone as me? Or are they just following the rules... pretending to be broody teenagers? I want to laugh but instead I make my way to the front with confidence I didn't know I had. With big bold letters I write I AM NOT for everyone to see. And I leave. I do not belong here. 

"We all believe in the ordinary acts of bravery."

a/n: quotes credits Pablo Picasso and Veronika Roth.