What a beautiful mess this is . . .

                                            *                                    *                                         *     Smile, I told myself, forcing my lips to curl upwards as I looked at my own, now-shabby reflection. This is what you wanted. Now this is what you have.    In response, my face reflected a strange expression that would barely pass for a smile.   I knew there were people watching from the other side of the one-way mirror, evaluating my every move. And it could be anyone. Anyone. So I had to smile. I had to show I really wanted this.   The scene of my sad farewell played back in my head in a loop, almost mockingly now. "You take care of yourself, understand?" my mother's sweet voice echoed inside my head. "And you'll call us everyday."   "Mom," I'd whined. "I'll be tired. Training is hard . . . "   Instead of a verbal reply, my mom had awkwardly wrapped her thin arms around me. Probably my last hug since.   I dug my nails deeper into my palms, blinking vigorously to stop my tears from spilling out.   Accept it, I told myself as I slipped down to the smooth wooden floor. I let out a long, sad sigh, momentarily losing myself in the melancholy. You miss them. You miss your family, you miss your friends. You miss your home, and you just wanna go back.    My head tilted back until it hit the wall. I want this . . . And just like that, a small tear escaped my eye. I instantly wiped it away, before anyone from behind the glass could see me and throw me out.   Being a trainee here in Seoul at one of the top talent agencies was a dream come true for me. And I couldn't let it go just like that. No matter how hard it gets.   The handle to the door turned softly before a fellow trainee, that I recognised as my row partner walked in, looking like she was on the verge of breaking down.   I sniffed, straightening my shoulders as I watched her sadly shove her bottle in her gym bag, with her head bent low.   "Gwenchana?" My voice sounded airy and tired.   She slowly lifted her head, and I realized with a mild shock that she was crying. "Do I look okay?" Her hand reached up to wipe her tears and she sniffed loudly, continuing to adjust the only item in her bag.   I quickly rushed over to her side and placed a gentle hand on her trembling shoulder.   That's all she could contain, and she suddenly started . . . wailing like a child. "I don't know what to do. I miss my family so much! It's so hard being here all by myself!" Her hand kept swiftly wiping away her abundant tears as she poured her feelings out.   I patted her shoulder in sympathy. Although, what I was really thinking was why wouldn't she just go and meet her family. I mean, they lived three hours away. All she had to do was take a bus, an