"Hoseok sweetie please you need to eat" My mom says. The living room is dim, me sitting in the small couch and her one the big one. My ssamguypsal is sitting in front of me, but I don't want to eat. I haven't eaten in two days, I'm healthy. I'm strong. I don't like the thought of my stomach expanding because of the things I eat, I don't want to lose that emptiness, that growling that is non-stop. It's comforting. 

It's nice to know that I have control over something in my life. I get to decide my weight, I get to decide how much I eat and how much I work out. My parents, my mom mainly, worry about me a lot when I don't eat. My dad just thinks it's a phase and boys will be boys but no, that's not the case here. I like the feeling of self control, when someone puts a delicious piece of chocolate cake in front of me and I have the power to not eat it. Or when my parents go out to dinner on their little "dates" to keep the spark in their marriage still alive I don't eat dinner.

"Hoseok please. Why don't you eat?! Your still growing you need the food" my mom pleads, her food set aside now. I glance over at my plate, shaking my head.

"No mom. I know I'm still growing but I just don't... want to eat." I say, fiddling with my hands in my lap, jacket covering up the bloody cuts and white scars that are my arms.

Even if my parents know about my cutting, I don't want to wear short sleeves. I don't want to catch them staring when I take a sip of my water and I don't want to see the judging, disappointed look in their eyes when more cuts appear. So I keep them hidden, like my own little secret that the world found out about but shouldn't. Like it's a dark thing, that no one should have ever known about but did on accident. It is. Its a very dark world I live in with depression and suicidal thoughts. It's dark, it's scary. Many friends ask me what cutting is like, and I tell them the truth, because I know they aren't going to leave me. If they were they would have already.

It's like squirting lemon in a cut, it hurts. But it's not physical pain even though sometimes it can be, Its mainly mental. You start to feel more and more insecure and start hiding more of yourself from people. You lose yourself somewhere in this dark mess of a world, the world that used to be so colourful and bright now is a mess of suffering and emotion. Once you lose yourself, other people start to lose you to. Depression is kind of like another person that used to live so deep down inside you, and when it comes out its hard to become you again. One minute your happy, the next minute your sad, the next minute you wish you were never even alive. The wave of emotion hits you hard, and you can't fight it. Emotions you get during depression are like going to the beach and getting sand all on you, the upset feelings are unwanted. The worst thing for me about my parents finding out about my cutting was that in a split second, the world I worked so hard to create came crashing down in an instant and was replaced by hurt and blood. I've never wanted it to be like this, but now that it is I'm so lost. Taehyung helps that. He knows how lost I am, because he's been through it too. He knows it's like I'm blind folded, always in the dark and never to see the path ahead of me. It . I don't like it. But I don't know how to change it.

"Hoseok Why don't you want to eat? Usually your stuffing your face at dinner, what happened to that? What happened to my little chubby baby boy?" She asks, plate in her hands once again.

The treadmill killed him, I think to myself bitterly. That's her way of making me feel better. By calling me chubby and saying I eat a lot. I wish she would understand how much I'm struggling in life, and that it's not some joke that you can take lightly.

I remember how my parents reacted to my cutting. They reacted out of fear, which come out more as anger. 

"What the hell would ever make you do that to yourself?!!!" My mom yelled, slamming the car keys she had been holding on the ground. 

We had just finished breakfast, and my mom wanted me to go change into a t shirt and help wash the car. I had just cut again the week before, so my cuts were still there, bloody and puffy and rigid.

I changed like she told me to and went downstairs to the garage, where my mom had been smoking, waiting for me to get down there to help. Once she saw my arm her eyes went wide, and the rest of the night was yelling from both my parents, saying it was all out of attention.

That's what you would really want your parents to say to you huh? That it's all for attention? No. My mom instantly came to me after she had calmed down and apologized for yelling, but my dad didn't say a word to me, didn't even look at me for a few weeks. Even when I started my sessions and he had to drive me to the office he would never say a thing to me. Eventually however, my mom decided it was best that she drove me instead of him and I couldn't have agreed more.

"I just don't have an appetite mom, I'm okay though." I say, leaving my plate on the couch to go to my room. I feel bad sometimes that I shut her out the way I do. I feel like she deserves to know a lot more then she does but I also believe that some things should never be spoken.

The only one who knows about me skipping meals is my therapist. Usually the therapist should tell your parents, but since he brings me food and makes me eat when I see him he keeps it confidential. He just wants to see that I can still eat, that I haven't lost that part of me as well. 

He's really caring, but then again that's his job to be. His job is to listen and help people find themselves, which I probably am very difficult.

I sigh and plop down on my bed, piling out my notebook from my backpack and flipping to the poem that I wrote this morning, reading it out loud with as much emotion as I can muster.

"That one dream: 

I used to think no. That it wasn't possible. That it won't happen, that it'll never happen.

I stay awake at night and wonder. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to music, picturing what I could become.

I want to make a difference, want to change the way people think.

I want people to see me for me and see the real me because really there's so much more to me than you think.

I see the light in the tunnel, I see truth in your eyes. I've seen when you cry and I see that you want to die. I see it all.

But you shouldn't have given up so soon, you have up on your dreams and all you've known.

A dream is something you picture. And if you picture it you can become it. Look at yourself in the mirror.

Do you see the picture in your head? No? Because you gave up on those dreams, on the simplest of things.

You could have been famous, could have had it all, so many people have seen you fall. You had so much potential but you refused to get up and try again when really you should have refused to give up and thrive again.

I have a dream. I wanna big house, and big cars, and big rings, but actually I don't have any big dreams.

Because my dreams are turning into reality, I can hear all the screams of support.

I never gave up on it all, and now I'm standing here before you all. I've fallen, I've been beat down but I refused to give up.

I've heard it all. The harsh,?cruel degrading comments, I've learned to push past it all. And now I'm a star, with my big rings and big cars, but you know how it all started?

That one dream, that's now my reality because I was devoted and driven and I've succeeded and now I'm living it.

So the one thing I want to say now... is take your own path, see your own future,come up with that image you wanna be and paint your mural.

Cause your time to shine will come,and when it does you better never give up and stand tall." I finish with a heavy sigh.

It's getting dark out, exhaustion sweeping over my body. I gently place my notebook on my desk and change into more comfortable clothes, slipping into bed and slowly falling asleep to the sound of my mom doing the dishes.

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Hey guys!!! I just wanted to say a few things. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and up votes and subscribes and especially who comment. It makes my day to see that someone commented on one of my stories. Sorry for grammar mistakes and sorry that it's short and , I wanted to update again tonight before I went to bed (it's 10 pm here) and so yeah I hope you all enjoy. Don't forget to go read my other stories and comment, and I love when people inbox me about my stories and comment on them. Thank you all!! :)

P.S I wrote the poem a while ago (a few months ago) because Sugas rap in No More Dream inspired me to, so I'm sorry if it . I just wanted to write a poem and I thought of his rap and yeah. Thanks!