Chapter Text
“We are all bumbling along, side by side, week in, week out, our paths, similar in some ways and different in others, all apparently running parallel. But parallel lines never meet.”
-Mary Lawson
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I have been itching to cut a deep wound into my useless arms. What’s the sense of living in this world where everyone only thinks on how they are doing in the eyes of other people? I don’t understand why people need to suffer being together with people who are immoral, disrespectful and selfish. Fuck. My doctor said that poeple will miss me, they will forever remember the good deeds that I have done in their lives. Seriously? I’m a musician, not a doctor. I don’t think I can fix someone’s life with my music. I’m awful. I make listeners cry. They said that it’s because they feel something with my music. That they can relate. That it’s their story. I didn’t even write some of those. Well I guess that people have similar stories in their lives — coz it’s my story too. So I won’t cut myself, coz I don’t want them to suffer. Also, it’s a long bitchy process and I hate it.
I have once experienced being loved and appreciated. It’s not cliché to say that it is the best feeling in the world — coz it is. But it’s also the worst feeling in the world once it ended and suddenly forgotten. I write my songs to tell people how I feel, that I feel suffocated, that I feel like dying. I don’t want people to praise me. I don’t want them to say that my songs made them cry — it makes me sad too. I am supposed to make them smile, not to bring them to tears.
I’m on the rooftop of my company. The company who gave me life will also be the location of my death. That’s kinda meaningful.
Standing at the edge of this rooftop brings me to reality that only the touch of air can give me comfort. I wonder what will happen if I just become this invisible substance. Will people still know that it’s me? Definitely no, and I want that. I have been wanting for people to forget me. I know that I will be remembered, by name yes, but not with how I have been living my life.
I wonder if these people under me would grieve over my body. Would they? If they do, then okay. But if they don’t, that’s better. I don’t want to make them cry.
I decided to sit first. To feel the warmth that the sunlight gives. The city never had a good air. It feels good, but it doesn’t smell right.
I made this letter last night —— thinking of the people who I will leave in this world. Thinking about my mom and dad, like how they will react — from my death and from the things written here. Duh, I didn’t make a suicide letter, I made a fucking eulogy for myself coz I know that no one will. I hope they don’t shed a single tear. I hate tears. I really hate it. No one has ever seen me cry over anything. And no one will ever. Other people seeing me cry feels like I am dancing naked on one of my stages.
I’ll just throw it here, so people from the ground will think of it as a miracle. Oh—— I forgot that I don’t believe in miracles. I keep on thinking about the future when something like just a scribble on the floor caught my attention.
Don’t kill yourself. Live your life.
I don’t know if I am reading it correctly. I am not wearing my reading glasses. Why would anyone write this with a sharpee? My boss will freak out if he learns about this. He’s a clean freak.
I remove myself from being relaxed with death. I stand up and look close to the scribble on the floor. It really says ‘Don’t kill yourself. Live your life’.
I don’t know if the grim reaper is trying to play jokes with me — coz i’m not. I am not in the mood for interruptions. This is not a blessing nor a miracle. It’s destiny fooling with my weak heart. How could he? I don’t know if God is punishing me for trying to kill myself — I can’t blame Him, though.
Thinking about this unexpected situation gives me goosebumps. The feeling is familiar. It feels like I know who has written this.
I got my sharpee inside my guitar bag and write, “Why should I?”
I need this person to explain why should I keep my heart beating. It’s such rare opportunity to find something in my life that will catch my attention and will also make me stop whatever my I am planning to execute. I put the letter inside my guitar bag, no one’s going to see it for now. It’s a secret.
My life has been a mess. It’s still a mess now. But this person just told to live this messy life.
“Jaehyun-ah!!!!!!!!” my manager shouts, i knew it. “Where have you been????? I’ve been looking for ages!! Hyung will kill me. Come on now before I drag you!”
“Okay I’ll follow.” I said nonchalantly.
“What the fuck? Wait. Are you trying to kill yourself? You were not joking last night? Yah Jaehyun-ah, you better collect yourself. Keep your shit together. You’ll waste everything that you worked hard for? Stupid ungrateful bastard. Yes, people follow you, but you think they will remember you for a long time?” I don’t want them to. “They won’t.” That’s what I want.
“You always hurt me with your words, manager-nim. Okay, I’ll follow you downstairs Sungyoon hyung — and I won’t kill myself. Someone just saved me from doing that very thing.” He knows me very well. And for now, I won’t break his trust.
With his raised eyebrow, he said “Bastard. Follow in 10 minutes or you’re over.”
“Eung.”
Before I leave this place, I ask this person again,
‘Why?’
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“Why should I?”
“Why?”
So there is a person who answered my vandal. It’s just so cute how he or she is so confuse with living. Life is beautiful. Living is such a wonderful thing.
But the idea of death always excites me — what will happen after I die. Thinking about death gives me goosebumps, I’ve always wanted to see the world of afterlife. But you know why I haven’t killed myself? Because I love music. I love sharing my thoughts, my feelings and my heart through writing songs. Music saved my life. I love hearing stories of people who have listened to my songs, how it changed their lives and how it stopped them from taking their lives away from their themselves.
Hearing compliments on how I greatly write each of masterpieces is wonderful, but hearing my listeners’ heart is a whole different thing. That’s why I don’t understand why some people want to kill themselves. Life is so precious.
......
“Hyung. No one enjoys my songs. All the singers have been rejecting it. I don’t know what’s wrong.” I asked the ceo of our company, he is as close as my father.
“Jibeom-ah. Let’s say that your time is not now. I know, you write wonderful songs. You love sharing what’s there — inside your heart. But even you write songs with all you have, it’s still hard to please people. Don’t worry, people will learn to love you and your songs. And you will be known.”
I want to kill myself. No one likes to give my song a chance. Such a waste, Jibeom. You are useless, meaningless and unimportant. Since, no can hear my pleading, maybe it’s just better to jump of the roof, die and be unknown to other people.
Daeyeol hyung caught my attention with the words that he said next, “Jibeom, a young indie singer will sing one of your songs. His voice has a different color, but he’s still young so we won’t show his face. I’ve seen him already, I will show him to you next time.”
Young. New singer. Unknown. Yes, this is my luck. Only small singers want to sing my songs. I have no interest knowing this nugu. But I still answered my boss, “Okay. Thank you, hyung.”
“You will be successful, Jibeom. Not now, but in the near future.” Let’s see before I jump of the rooftop.
.......
“An unknown rookie named ‘Sweet Lullaby’ has been making a big noise! With the combination of his powerful vocals and the magical words of our monster rookie composer, Kim Jibeom! Sweet Lullaby’s debut song “All day” has been rocking the roof of the charts for 3 straight days now!”
My life has changed after hearing the news. Multiple people congratulated me, praised and loved me and my songs. Countless number of singers have been asking me to write songs for them and I never fail to give them what they want. I will hear their stories then I will write. I enjoy what I do, and I will never regret it.
Daeyeol hyung and his boyfriend are the biggest help to my success. They never fail to push me to keep on chasing my dreams. And now I’m here.
.......
Don’t kill yourself. Live your life.
I always write these words to places where people want to kill themselves. This rooftop is also the witness of my attempts in facing death. Music saved my life and I will people to save their lives with my music.
I write “Because you matter. You are important.”