I sat on a plastic chair amongst a hundred or more hopefuls for the audition. The majority of them were practicing their parts, singing, dancing or rapping in their own little world while they waited for their number to be called. Practicing would’ve been the smart thing to do, but I was so strung out that I couldn’t even think of practicing.

Thousands of negative thoughts swirled through my mind, telling me that this was a waste of time. I was going to fail anyway. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of my thoughts and focused my attention on the form I was supposed to fill out for the judges. I skimmed through it, filling out my mobile number, residence, contact details, but faltered when I reached the words; age. I bit my lip, contemplating.

I hadn’t sent in my birth date with my audition tape, so there was still a chance I could fake it. Someone my age would probably never get into the industry, I was just too old. But, if I wanted to get into Super Junior, I couldn’t be too young. I did the mental math and worked out that Kyuhyun, the youngest of them all, would’ve been born in 1988. I wanted to avoid being the youngest again if I could.

People always enjoyed putting the limelight on the maknae, trying to make them act cute. If I was the maknae, then I had to stand out. I wasn’t here to be famous, I was here to save my father. I scribbled in a fake date of birth, using my real birth date but the year 1987 instead. I felt my chest ache when I reached the next question. ‘Family – Emergency Contact Numbers.’ I furrowed my eyebrows, knowing that there wasn’t anyone here for me. What was I supposed to write? I’m an orphan who knows nobody?

I sighed in frustration, once again feeling irritated for being brought back here against my will for God knows whatever reason. I was about to write in Nil for contacts when I realised that I at least knew somebody – Kang. I wrote his name and phone number down, feeling relieved that at least there was someone I could rely on.

I finished the form and went back to dwelling on my anxiety, hearing people get called up one by one. I was number 33, and they were already up to the mid twenties by now. I wondered why I thought I could even do this. Why I thought I had a chance at passing this audition. All my thoughts were starting to consume me, until my Dad’s face flashed in my mind. The sight of him smiling down at that photo frame of Super Junior, tears welling up in his eyes from all the emotions attached behind it – I knew that I had to keep on persevering, for his sake.

“Number thirty three!”

I almost jumped out of my seat, my hands shaking in both anticipation and nervousness. I had to do this. This wasn’t just a rejection for me, this was someone’s life. If I played this right, maybe I could save him. Maybe I could at least begin to understand why he took his own life. I took in a deep breath and walked into the room, acting as confident as I possibly could. I had been on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, so I could do this in front of five judges.

Somehow, the pressure was incomparable to being on stage. The weight of the future was lying on my shoulders, I had to get this right. I moved to the centre of the room, facing the panel desk with the judges seated behind. They all stared at me with bored, uninterested looks, like they couldn’t care less what I had to offer. The jeers of my anti fans rang in my ears as I handed them the form with my details on it. They scanned it before who appeared the be the leader of them spoke out, “No family?”

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No, sir.”

He nodded and placed the form to the side. “So… Park Shin. You’re a dancer? Please begin with your routine.”

I bowed, “I will be starting now.” 

I moved to the CD player, placing my disk in and pressing start, listening to the music filling the room and got myself into the beat, waiting for the moment I would start. I cleared my mind and focused on the one thing that I could always rely on – dancing. Dancing was my life, and as long as I could expel all of my feelings through my moves, then I thought I would live a happy life. I gathered all of my frustration and anxiousness and started dancing on my cue. I put everything I ever had into that dance, moving like I had never done before.

I finished each move with a clean cute precision gained from hours and hours of practice late into the night, even when I felt like my body was going to give out on me. Each beat made me feel alive, made me feel the music as if it had a life of its own. I finished the late move, panting and wiping the sweat from my eyebrow. The music stopped and I looked up at the judges, hopeful that they were at least a little bit interested. All of their eyes were trained on me, some of them even looking surprised. I fiddled with my fingers, wondering if that was a good or bad thing.

“You may go now. We’ll contact you with our decision by tomorrow,” The woman sitting on the edge said, smiling at me with kind eyes.

I bowed once again, “Thank you.”

I sat on my bed, toying with my phone, waiting for the call that would decide my future. I knew how this worked from the last time I auditioned, and if I passed this, I would move onto the second round of the auditions. Last time the trainees were required to sing in a group and the least competent would be sent out from the room. I gulped, knowing that, if I passed the first round, the second could make or break me. If I at least passed that, there was a much higher chance of me making it in. I knew I couldn’t sing well but I hoped they would look past that and admit me based on my dancing skills. The phone buzzed in my hand and I answered it with lightening speed. “Hello?”     

“Ah Hello, is this Park Shin speaking?” The deep voice asked over the cracking line.

I took in a deep breath, praying this would be good news, “Yes it is.”

“Congratulations, you’ve passed the first round of the audition process at S.M. The second round begins on the first of April at the same place. I hope you will join us.”

I had to control myself from screaming out in happiness, squeaking out a quick “thank you” and “I’ll be there.”

I leapt up from my bed and punched my fist in the air, not able to contain my excitement in the least. I passed. I passed!