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Disclaimer:

* this story will contain topics that may be triggering to some people, e.g. death, depression, sui*de, self-harm, ...

* if you are not comfortable reading about such things, then I politely ask you not to read any further

* and to the people struggling out there, there is no shame in struggling with oneself or certain things in life, you are not alone and you are loved, please remember that. I wish you all the best 🤍

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"FUCK THIS SHIT!!", the rapper screamed, his hands slammed down onto his desk, a loud thud echoing through the small square room. His head hung low, his chin almost touching his chest and his hands in fists, while the tears slowly started to spill from his cat-like eyes. He knew he could not take this much longer. A tear dripped down from his chin wetting the crumbled piece of paper in his hand. Min Yoongi knew he was close to his breaking point.

He did not feel good.

Whether physically nor emotionally.

The tears kept flowing while his lips curved themselves into a helpless smile. Bystanders would simply call him crazy. Sometimes the male himself wanted to agree and just go on with his day. But it wasn't that simple. Not anymore.

Not knowing how to deal with his emotions while still feeling, not knowing what to think while still thinking. Knowing but not knowing. Feeling but at the same time not being able to feel at all. The bone-chilling numbness, he felt whenever his empty, yet tearful eyes would look back at him, scaring away any hope left within.

He wanted it all to stop.

Not knowing how he let himself slip away that far, but knowing he himself was to blame. That's what they said at least.

Peace was what he was yearning for – pain is what he got.

He saw it coming. A whole while ago. Yet, he stood still, held his head high and continued to smile for the camera. The shadow following his every step, every move he made – every mistake he so desperately tried to hide from the public's eye. In contrary to his own, those eyes were fierce, merciless and evil, blaming him for things he could not control.

Rule number 1: never show your mistakes. If you happen to slip, apologize for them. Take the blame, show remorse, find the fault within yourself. It's never the public's fault. Always the idol's.

Idols.

Min Yoongi wanted to laugh. The smile on his wet lips turning almost menacing.

A bunch of liars. All of them. Even he himself – was and still is and will forever be. It was terrifying. A long time ago he believed these lies. The life of an idol. One thing many wanted but only a few got, and even less succeeded in.

Right now, the male wanted nothing more than to scream at those people. Wanting to call them crazy and unrealistic, very much too optimistic, he realized he also once was a slave to the imagination.

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Hoped made the right decisions

Because they're also all in the past now

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His whole life was built on an image he needed to obtain, or he would simply die.

But again, it still was not that simple.

'A beautiful lie' he once scribbled down onto a once blank page of his now filled notebook. The words still struck a nerve – hit something deep down within his chest, he once thought went numb, because of all the pain. The page still only held those three words. Everything else would have felt wrong to the male. The words were simply too close to the truth.

Ever since that moment, nothing he wrote down into his small lyric book felt right anymore. Nothing felt truthful anymore. Lies. He could only see black lies written down on the once pure paper. It was simply not good enough anymore.

Everything he once loved everything he was good at turned into a lie. Music, composing, producing, nothing felt right anymore.

His heart lied heavy in his ribcage, his breath suddenly turning rushed and pressed. It felt more of a burden. Only the three words on a random page in an also random notebook, he once got in a random convenience store kept him going. He clung onto them like his life depended on it.

And it did.

Those three words kept him going and held him back at the same time. They brought him joy and brought him pain. They kept him alive and made him feel like he was dying. The responsibilities that came with it, the doubts, the knowledge of knowing about what was bringing you pain, but not being able to do something against it or to prevent it – it weighted him down. Like he was pushed into the sea, weight tied to his feet and only surviving on that small amount of breath a human was granted before being swallowed by the ice-cold water.

Yoongi was drowning. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he tried to push himself back up towards the surface, he was dragged further into the deep end.

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So, is all this countless suffering for my own good?

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It was hard to hope, when your whole mind was occupied by the thought of not to drown and stay alive. With the small amount of air he had left, the hope also faded. With every bit that would escape his lips small and big bubbles would move up towards the surface, towards the light. All his dreams - Yoongi let out a low chuckle – slowly faded and nightmares remained.

Until only one reason kept him from just letting go, from allowing them to win. His bandmates. To others six ordinary yet special young men, to Min Yoongi the reason he was still alive.

They did not know about the struggles of their second oldest member - and he would make sure that everything would stay that way – still following Yoongi's lie with passion and eagerness. They saw what Yoongi showed them, which was not much, if one would pay attention to how often he would spend the time in his small studio. Isolated, alone and away from his reason to live. The amount of time would get longer and the space wider.

And Min Yoongi was a great liar. To himself, as well as to his members, to his family. He could not help it though. He loved them.

Rule number 2: never talk about your feelings, especially not if they connect to depression, anxiety or anything in the mental disorder spectrum.

It was a severe issue. Not being able to actually talk about it but meant to understand your fan's issues – strangers – and sing about them. Knowing, but not knowing. Noticing, but ignoring. Not his own truth but a stranger's. Of course, many of their songs delt with serious matters, but they never delivered the truth – his own truth.

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I don't know your name

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It was always BTS, never Min Yoongi. Always 'Who is BTS?', not 'Who is Min Yoongi?'. It was a blessing and a curse. Being able to hide away, showing people only what they were as a group, not giving any opportunity to focus closer on a specific member. Only seeing the whole picture, not Min Yoongi.

Who was Min Yoongi though? The men without the other six by his side. He did not know. Not anymore and most likely not in the close future. The old Min Yoongi simply too young to even understand the thoughts circling in his head every minute and second during the day. Only dreaming about the life and great future ahead of himself, he grew to hate right now. Would his young self be disappointed... scared even?  The Min Yoongi of the present understanding but too weak and the Min Yoongi of tomorrow ... unreachable.

He saw his beautiful lie crumbling in front of his eyes like the crumbled, now also wet, paper in his hands. Slowly turning ugly.
Whenever he would look into the mirror and be greeted by a hollow figure, he came to realize was himself. Whenever he would look at his tights that were painted with red stripes, his nails and the skin around them, also marked red and the black crescents underneath his eyes.

He learnt to hate the color red.

They loved it though. The voices.

Rule number 3: always be thankful for your current life. And most importantly: always thank your fans first they are the reason your life turned out the way it did...

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Things I never ask for

Things that are outta my control

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They had power and control. Things he lacked in. Things he could not recover from.

Yet, he was thankful. He owed it to them and his members. 

Still, he grew helpless against the power and the control. It turned into self-hatred, insecurities, doubts, the list was long.

Yet, he had to be thankful. So, he let them win. All of them. One more tear fell onto the now opened lyric book, wetting the paper and smudging the three words he once wrote down on it. His gaze fell on these exact three words he could not stop thinking about anymore, looking on one specifically – or more like what was left of it.

Where once the word beautiful was written down in black ink, a fat black stain remained.

And finally, the ugly truth was all that was left.

Finally, he let them win. The voices in his head.

His most precious fans.

[...]