It was almost midnight, and another nightmare stirred me awake. Gently crawling out of bed to make sure Jimin wasn’t disturbed, I pulled out the chair by the desk and let my numb body sit down for a while. A sigh escaped my lips, and my hands trembled as the clock continued ticking. With every passing second, I felt so small in the world, so fragile and so lost. Another sigh was to leave, but I held it in, because I knew that every breath was a sin.

Just a few minutes before the clock struck twelve, I sat at the desk with my head in my hands, unable to freeze time, unable to stop everything at that moment. Hesitantly, I pulled the drawer and grabbed my diary. Old, torn, disoriented, and worn out, but I couldn’t replace it with a new one, because each memory was special. However, I needed to stop making these memories, and I would have to take the past along with me; the past defines me, and the present just hurts me.

Dear Jung Hoseok,

I paused for a while, observing the two words of my name; I wondered if I should cut that out, because honestly, who am I? Am I really the boy who couldn’t fall asleep without his mother’s caressing touch, or am I a member of one of the world’s biggest groups? It was a terrifying thought, but I was sure that I was no one. I don’t know who I am, so how was I trying to spread messages of accepting ourselves through our music?

There are just a few minutes left, and as you are writing this to yourself, just remind yourself of how pathetic you truly are. Who are you? Why are you here? You aren’t as great as the others, and maybe if it weren’t for you, BTS would’ve grown into success much faster, and they might have become even more famous today. It’s you, it’s all you. It’s all your fault.

I swiftly turned my head and held my breath at the sight; Jimin almost saw me. Shifting in the bed, he could’ve seen me in my most vulnerable and honest side. My shoulders tensed up as I looked back at the diary; the words glared at me with an angry gaze. I almost wanted to chuckle at my pitiful self, being dominated by a few sentences that I wrote. Then, the last few words grew within me – a sharp voice yelled at me, constantly telling me how worthless I am, and I recognised the voice. I knew that voice.

You hear yourself blaming you and scolding you, yet you continue to breathe and live the luxurious life that you don’t deserve.

The voice in my head was the least of my concerns, as I learned to ignore it and mute it out. What I actually feared were the voices around me; what do my parents think of me, and what do my members think of me? Am I a burden to them? I shouldn’t even doubt that – of course, I am a burden to everyone, but how much of a burden am I, that I fail to see the truth? I must say, I know the truth, but I keep running away from it. I won’t anymore. Running away from the truth won’t help – unless I run away physically.

Because of you, there are fans hating on the entire group. You see the comments about your appearance and your rapping skills, yet you still have the guts to stay in the group. No, you should be ashamed. Maybe if you weren’t here, there would be a much larger fanbase for the boys. Do you really think that learning how to rap will make you a professional rapper? Do you really think you can sing? Do you really think those dance moves make you the best dancer? It’s all a lie, and it’s because you ran away from the truth that you didn’t realise earlier. Your parents must be disappointed. You know they are.

Dancing has always been my passion, and I worked hard and still work hard every single day to prove my potential. It’s pointless though. They don’t need me, they’re better dancers. They’ve got the rappers and vocalists they need; they’ve got all the lyrics they need, and I’m just an extra. I thought back to when I doubted everything and left the group, but they brought me back, and maybe now they regret it – maybe they realised they should’ve let me walk out. Nonetheless, I’ll make things easier for them.

You aren’t special.

That phrase repeated itself on every page of my diary ever since I discovered the truth – the harsh truth of reality and my persona. Bold, underlined and aligned to the centre, the words stood out from the rest of the paragraphs and it was crazy how those three words slowly killed me inside. The hands of the clock continued to move at an abnormally slow pace, or maybe it was just another illusion of mine. Either way, time passed at a painfully slow speed, and my heart beat faster as a dark thought gloomed over me.

You can’t even frame your paragraphs and establish a flow to your sentences. Just how pathetic can you be? You can’t come up with clear ideas, and you still want to write lyrics to songs? Look at yourself. You know that you aren’t capable of anything. You know you’re weak. You know you’re not the hope you want to be. If anything, you’re simply hopeless about yourself, your life, and the world. You can’t represent hope, you can’t smile to your fans. To be fair, you don’t even have fans.

After an excruciating minute, my heart fought back the pain and I forced myself to grin. In a world of love and hate, evil and good, there must be people to show the world that humanity is still under our control. Despite the terrors of the world, there is still hope, or so I believed. It is the sole purpose of my smiles. I have nothing to be happy about, for my life is a mess, so the least I can do is smile for my family, my friends, the members and the fans. I smile for their sake, I smile to show them that I’m okay, I smile to show them that their worries will fade away – because their worries are nothing compared to mine.

You are nothing but a puppet, smiling for everyone, symbolising hope and joy. False happiness is all you symbolise in reality. It’s all a mask you put on, because that’s why you exist. You are a malfunctioned, weak coward, hiding yourself from the world and smiling endlessly because you think you are okay, and you think that everyone admires you. They don’t. No one likes you because you’re just a poorly developed character from a tragic story. You need some light to hide the truth, which is why you release all the cheerful, fun and enthusiastic music. The truth, however, has come to the surface, and now that you’ve fallen into this pit of despair, you won’t ever escape. There is no escape.

For once, I wanted to escape my body, or rather have my soul replaced with a new one. I wasn’t comfortable in my own vessel, and I felt suffocated and trapped, forced to sit still within this disguised hell. If I can’t flash a genuine smile – the one task I should be able to do – then what is the purpose of living?

Do the world a favour, and leave the group just like you did back then before your debut. Leave, never come back, because what you fear is true. No one appreciates you. You smile bright, you really do, but your broken heart is significant and your smile will grow weak. Would you let the world see how fragile you are? No, you wouldn’t. Therefore, leave before it’s too late. Someone talentless like you shouldn’t be a part of such an amazing group. Say your last words, dear no one.

The clock struck twelve. It was a new day, and another day of living in fear of not being wanted and loved, but I managed to smile softly for just a while. Even though every light in my body dimmed out, at least there was a candle I could blow out. Reluctantly, I crawled back to bed.

“Happy birthday!”, they woke me up with gleeful smiles and laughter.

I knew that I would miss them the most; I would miss waking up to see their faces; I would miss waking up to Jimin’s daily songs; I would miss waking up to the delightful aroma of Seokjin-hyung’s breakfast; I would miss waking up to Namjoon looking for his lost earphones; I would miss waking up to Yoongi-hyung’s sleepy face; I would miss waking up to Taehyung’s constant complaints about not having someone to hug; I would miss waking up to Jungkook’s energetic vibe. I would miss us, but my heart flinched in pain upon realising that I was already starting to feel lonely.

“Whoa, aren’t you all hyped up?” I laughed at their cheerful voices, groggily stepping out of bed with the others trailing behind me. “Guys, you can’t enter the washroom with me!” Their giggles continued to ring in my ears till they walked out of the room.

Stepping into the living room, the world seemed perfect even if it was just temporary. With the youngest three cuddled up on the couch, and the others working in the kitchen, the view was special. Even with Namjoon messing up the recipes, everything felt just right. We don’t normally cook for ourselves, but Seokjin-hyung always insists on having homemade breakfast on special days, but was my birthday really special? It simply symbolised another year of having to bear living and working with me – it should not be celebrated, rather avoided.

“Hoseok-ah, I know you don’t like seaweed soup, so I made you your favourite platter of sandwiches! I know they don’t taste like your mother’s, but hey, something is better than nothing.” It warmed my heart; Yoongi-hyung never fails in anything he does – unlike me.

Something is better than nothing. Perhaps I should appreciate what I have because in another part of the world, somebody probably wakes up to an even horrifying sight, yet it felt wrong to appreciate what’s around me. It felt wrong because I felt like a thief, stealing the life of someone else, stealing the world that should’ve been embraced by someone else, anyone but me. Every bite of the sandwich led to bleeding gums, aching teeth and dying taste buds. I didn’t belong there.

“Stop. Whatever’s on your mind right now, hyung, get it out of your head. Today’s your birthday, and you’re supposed to be happy.” Jimin said softly as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

I smiled towards him and replied casually, “Nothing’s on my mind though. I am happy, very happy…” I would’ve succeeded in hiding my pain if it wasn’t for me trailing off with an uncertain tone.

“Hyung, a-are you okay? You seem… You seem troubl