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I’m pretty enough, right?
Carefully he put on lip gloss, looking in the mirror at how the gloss beautifully highlighted his plump lips. His brown hair framed his slim face and brought out his sharp eyes. His skin was shimmering from the highlighter he had applied previously.
I can dance well enough, right?
He made sure his microphone was fastend on its place properly, as to not fall off during the difficult dance routine. The new song wasn’t the easiest to dance to, but the dancer still enjoyed it and looked forward to shine on stage.
My Korean is decent enough, right?
He got in position. The countdown for the start started. The loud, electric voice echoing in his ears even after it finished. The lights turned off. For a few seconds just everything was filled with concentrated silence.
My vocal abilities are good enough, right?
The song started and he ran onto stage, letting his muscle memory take over his body and moving to the beat flawlessly. A surge of adrenaline flew through his whole body, making him feel giddy and excited for the stage.
I have a body that’s good enough, right?
Finally his line came and he sang through the mic, not actually doing anything. He could hear his prerecorded voice echo through the room. He was disappointed that he couldn’t even sing his few lines live.
I am enough, right?
The stage ended. Everyone seemed relieved and congratulated each other. He wanted to be part of it too, but all he could feel while monitoring was disappointment and jealousy because of his nearly nonexistent screen time and lines. When they asked him how he felt he would force a strained smile on his face and say it went well, he just was tired. Because he always was tired.
I will get recognized someday, right?
He fell onto his bed, exhausted and incredibly unmotivated. His never ending bad treatment strained his energy from him. He monitored the performance again. With the upbeat song in the back he actually looked happy. It contrasted the endless pit of darkness in his stomach.
Right?
A single tear ran down his cheek. He ignored it. The next tear came. And he ignored it again. His eyes were fixated on his phone screen, where he had open the schedule his manager just sent him. He didn’t have a single schedule to promote the album outside of his unit.
Who even am I?
Another day, another stage. He didn’t get any screen time. Again. But he was used to it by now. It didn’t prevent the feeling of having to puke coming up. But he was used to it. He was just so done with everything. But he couldn’t give up just yet. Maybe everything would get better soon.
What should I do?
He watched Yukhei celebrating the new modeling job he had gotten. He should feel happy for him. But he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. But the younger didn’t know that the job he had gotten wasn’t actually meant for him. He had asked the management for the chance, but they had suddenly decided to change it to Yukhei. He didn’t blame his band mate. He just felt hurt.
I am lost.
He stared at the river underneath him. It flowed over the smooth rock of the river bed freely. He wished he was so free too. He thought about just letting himself fall off the edge of the bridge and letting the water take him with it. He imagined how it would feel to hit the water from this height. He imagined how the air would get pressed out of his lungs, how he would be pulled underwater. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, but he wouldn’t care. He would be free, after all.
I am lost.
Half an hour later he stood in front of the dorms again. He entered and took of his shoes. Kun briefly looked at him, seemingly relieved. “Thank god Sicheng, I was about to call you. Dinner is ready!” Sicheng just nodded and entered the kitchen. He didn’t jump. He didn’t free himself. This was his life. Sicheng could try to flee it, but he would never succeed.
I AM LOST.