Mr. Owl, have you ever thought of dying?

No, Kai.

You liar.

Am I that transparent?

Yes.

What about you? Have you ever thought of dying?

Every day.

What’ll it take for you to stop?

I can’t.

<:>

At school, Sungyeol was someone who didn’t really stand out. He was, all in all, a wallflower. He rarely spoke and he did his own tasks in a corner. Compared to Daeyeol who had friends left and right, Sungyeol was the kind of guy who kept to himself while listening to music coming from his headphones.

“Hyung!” Daeyeol cried one day, as he entered the seniors’ classroom. He slammed his hands on Sungyeol’s desk and the older one looked up, only to meet the playful spark in his dongsaeng’s eyes.

“What is it now?” he murmured.

“I forgot my lunch money,” Daeyeol pointed out. “Hyung, can I borrow some of yours?” he rubbed his palms together and bowed down. “Please?”

He sighed, but took out his wallet from his blazer pocket just the same. “I can only give you this amount,” he said, as he handed him five thousand won.

Daeyeol grinned, and waved the money in front of his hyung. “It’s more than enough,” he said. “Thanks!”

Sungyeol nodded away, and he proceeded to carry on reading his text book. Daeyeol pouted, and asked, “Hyung, aren’t you eating?”

He looked up at his dongsaeng, and smiled. “I don’t feel hungry now.”

The younger one shrugged, and he waved goodbye. “See you later then, hyung!”

“See you,” Sungyeol replied. He watched his younger brother join his friends who were waiting for him outside. From where he sat, he could still hear their boisterous laughter, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like to be surrounded by people who understood him.

Sungyeol looked up when he sensed that his seatmate returned. Like him, she was someone who didn’t participate with what their classmates were into. She had a small face and a petite frame. Her eyes, however, were dark and huge and her hair was naturally straight. He had to admit that she was pretty, but not once did he see her use that for her own advantage. Her name was Goo Hara.

Hara rarely talked, but if she did, it would always be blunt. Many people liked and disliked that trait of hers. As for Sungyeol, he stayed neutral about it. He couldn’t be bothered, anyway. The two met each other’s eyes, and after an acknowledging nod, he returned his gaze to the book he was reading. Sungyeol then heard something fall, and so he looked down on the floor. Hara’s pen rolled and stopped near his foot.

“S-Sorry about that,” she murmured in that warm voice of hers. She crouched to reach the pen but Sungyeol beat her to it. He paused, however, when he saw some blue blotches on Hara’s wrist. She was one of the few girls who wore long sleeves and Sungyeol assumed he found out the reason why. He paused, and when Hara realized it, she quickly covered her exposed skin as she grabbed the pen from him.

“Thanks,” she said again.

“No problem,” Sungyeol replied. He stared at Hara for a moment longer, and when she cleared to indicate that she was uncomfortable, he stopped.

Despite Sungyeol not joining in with his classmates, he still knew what they were talking about. Usually the people who didn’t belong were the hottest topic—that included Hara. He guessed he was spared due to his dongsaeng’s popularity at school, and even if he was gossiped on, he wouldn’t give a damn about it. He knew the truth and that was more than enough for him.

He heard how Hara’s family went from riches to rags. Different news about her floated about. Some said that she was found hanging out in Seoul’s red light district. Many guys bragged how they scored on her. All of those were trash talk to Sungyeol. Somehow, he understood Hara, but he couldn’t find the guts to tell it to her. One reason was he couldn’t be bothered, and the second was he didn’t want to get involved.

Despite his disinterest, however, Sungyeol knew that he and Hara were on the same boat; he knew that like him, she was tired; like him, she was lonely; like him, she longed for a long and deep rest.

Sungyeol glanced at Hara again, who was already doing her Math homework due for tomorrow. It was always like that. She did things in advance, and he wondered if she had other things to take care of outside the school premises. He clasped the back of his neck, and after giving it some thought, he reached for his bag and took out his ointment for bruises which he occasionally used whenever he did wall climbing on his own, if he had the time. He subtly tossed the tiny tube on Hara’s book, and she shot him a curious look.

“Use that,” he said. “It’ll heal quicker.”

She stared at the ointment for a second longer, and then she shifted her gaze to Sungyeol once again. “I don’t need it,” she replied. “Thanks for sparing a thought, though.”

“If you’re thankful, then use it,” Sungyeol returned. “If someone else sees that, they’ll gossip about you again.”

She smirked. “I’m not affected by it, though.”

“It’s getting irritating,” he shot back. “Hearing trash all the time, that is. Just use it. You can keep it, too.”

Hara nodded away. “Thanks, anyway.”

“No problem,” Sungyeol said, and just like that, the two carried on with whatever they were doing.

<:>

Sungyeol didn’t want to go home yet. He didn’t want to feel the emptiness of his home again, despite it being populated with three other people. Sometimes, the urge of running away enticed him so much. There was one time he started to pack his things in secret to make the great escape. He wasn’t mistreated by his parents in any way, and despite them being a family with average income, their needs were always met. However, whenever his parents fought, or when they couldn’t find the time to sit around the house, that was when the urge to run away was at its strongest. When he was reprimanded for something he didn’t do, or when Daeyeol was spared from any punishment he deserved, Sungyeol was so tempted to run away and to never come back. He knew who his parents favored, and he found it unfair. It was unfair, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

He decided to take the train home by seven in the evening and he told his Mom that he wouldn’t take supper that night. Daeyeol was already home, playing his game console in the living room. Sungyeol glanced at him, and he smirked when he saw his dongsaeng’s homework on the coffee table, still untouched.

“Do your homework,” Sungyeol said.

“Hyung, you really are no fun,” Daeyeol replied, his eyes still glued on the television screen. “Loosen up a bit, hm?”

“Rascal,” he returned, as he tousled his hair.

“Ah, hyung!” Daeyeol hit the pause button, and he craned his neck to meet Sungyeol’s eyes.

“What is it?”

“If I don’t know anything, I’ll knock on your door.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Daeyeol pumped his fist in the air, and grinned. “Thanks, hyung. You’re the best!”

Sungyeol headed upstairs, and right after closing his bedroom door and tossing his bag on the floor, he began to undress. He changed into a plain white shirt and a pair of black jogging pants. He pulled out his English textbook from his bag and sifted through the pages until he saw the exercise section he marked earlier.

<:>

Post 160

By: Mr. Owl

“Your children are not your children. 
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. 
They come through you but not from you, 
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. 
You may give them your love but not your thoughts. 
For they have their own thoughts. 
You may house their bodies but not their souls, 
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. 
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. 
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. 
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. 
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. 
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; 
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”

-Khalil Gibran

It’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? Our parents don’t own us, and when I get older, I won’t own my children, either. It’s like all of us are just stewards, and yet, some adults try to control what children should and should not do. Though I admit it is necessary, I believe there’s a fine line between disciplining and controlling. I respect my parents and honor them, but sometimes the pressure they put on me is just too much I end up breaking down on my own. It felt like they didn’t undergo adolescence. When I become an adult like them, I wonder if I’ll forget the feelings which dwelled inside when I was nineteen years old. I wonder if I’ll treat my children as dolls and not as humans. I wonder if I’ll dress them up and not give them enough space to grow. I wonder if I’ll be the one to construct a paved road for them and not give them any options or free will. I wonder if I’ll end up controlling them instead of disciplining them.

I don’t want that to happen.

<:>

Post 88

By: Kai

I’m always in a crowded room, but I feel so alone.

All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things edify.
- 1 Corinthians 10:23