RECORDING 11

There was no stopping it.

It was bound to happen, anyway.

I'm still. . a bit overwhelmed of the thought that someone found me out as AD.

Nevertheless. ., it's someone I know I can absolutely trust.

Except for one thing:

She wants to see my studio.

Obviously, it’s a definite no. Is she crazy? Letting her come here is a whole new security breached issue. She could find out the drafts I've been working on, maybe try to sell it online.

Then again, would people believe her?

Nobody knows who Agust D really is.

However, this raises a bit of anxiety in me. ., suddenly, people I don’t care about— I keep overthinking how they might’ve found out, too.

What if Kate changes her mind? For money, maybe? ‘I haven’t got a lot of it. The amount is pretty exact for my college tuition, my electric bills and for the apartment.’

OK, main point is she wants to see my studio.

Knowing fans, she might. . .try tactics or blackmail me if I say otherwise.

She gave me a week to think about it. ‘Weirdly enough, she sounds like the boss of me.’ But she is not. You hear me?

‘Ahhh. . .this is getting weirder and more complicated for a voice diary.’

JK! Let’s talk about him.

Jungkook and I were friends. Not necessarily became friends just because our car hit him.

I know I sounded misleading in the previous tape. Uhm, but you’d know about it, right? ‘Cause only Min Yoongi himself can replay these tapes.

Anyway, we were friends way before he developed his condition. Without his mother knowing about it.

Online friends. Tippity tapping all the way, every night, since he would always have to hide it from his Mom.

‘He steals her phone at night, after all and always made sure to delete solid proof of our conversations. .,’

Everything was so simple back then.

Since he wasn't allowed to go outside, I showed him pictures of places I used to visit; mostly being my favorite ones. Before my parents decided it wasn't something for me to enjoy.

We both had a pretty rough childhood.

Kookie developed schizo, and I. ., depression and panic anxiety attacks.

Recently, I’ve been writing down poems about how I feel during that time of the day; and I think these were pretty good:

| I watched the clouds drift apart from each other. I realized they constantly move towards one direction, as nature would have it. I stare at them and wonder, will I ever be like that someday? Never being afraid of the past, always looking far ahead into the future. Might as well be casted a shadow upon and never be seen by anyone...

| The noise of classrooms; the laughter, the enthusiasm and the raising of hands— they always bothered me so. I wonder why the voices don’t stop inside my head? Why can’t I control them myself?

[silence, crumpling of papers] Yeah, definitely bad stuff to remember and record. I have to throw these out. . .

My therapist is not going to like these once he sees them. I'm trying my best. ., what I always tell him. . .but there are really just thoughts that linger further. . .and they keep returning every chance they get.

[breathes, shifting position in swivel chair]

[End of Tape]

[ posted AUGUST 5 2018 ]