Dahyun’s POV

I swear I want to put some duct tape on Momo’s mouth so that she won’t be able to talk and eat. She’s lucky that Sana and Mina didn’t know about this. After our composition was finished and the music, we practiced for the remaining days at her house every after school hours.

I could say that our song is not that catchy. Well it’s all about a person who doesn’t want to pretend just to be loved even though that person will get to be hated. The song isn’t that sad because of the lively tune it has. 

When we were called at the stage, I could feel that she’s nervous about it. She told me that it would be her first time to sing an original song. We walked to the stage and I started to set up my keyboard and adjust the tune and the music sheet. She looked at me waiting if I’m ready and I just nod. I let out a breath and started to play.

“They only see me if I look a certain way. They only love me till I’m gone. They only hear me if I say the right things, Am I wrong? Hmm or is there too much pressure. Yeah. Too much pressure. Yeah.” Sana started the first verse and pre-chorus. “They only see me if I look a certain way. They only love me till I’m gone. They only hear me if I say the right things, Am I wrong? Ooh or is there too much pressure. Ey, too much pressure. Mmm is there too much pressure yeah. Too much pressure.”

It’s on chorus now and also my turn. 

“I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I’m not. Too much pressure. Yeah. I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I’m not. Too much pressure, yeah. Ooh.” I sang as my hands kept playing the keys. I looked at the audience and saw that they are enjoying it. Could be the lyrics are somehow relates to them. I smirked at my own thought and continued singing.

“They only want me if I got something to give. They only feel me till I change. They only need me till they find the next thing, Am I wrong? Or is there too much pressure. Hey, too much pressure. Mmm is there too much pressure yeah. Too much pressure, yeah.”

And Sana’s turn.

“I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I’m not. Too much pressure. Yeah. I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I’m not. Too much pressure, yeah. Ooh.”

“(She doesn’t even drink. Who is she?) Too much pressure, yeah.” I second voice as she keeps singing the chorus.

“(She actually thinks it’s over. Who