And it starts again. The tears just stream down my face as I bury my hands in my hair in frustration. I sit up in my bed, cross-legged.

Again I'm comparing others with me. For example my parents, they came so far, they have their own child, they both have good paying jobs, they have a great circle of friends—and then there's me, good at nothing, I can't speak any other language as good as everyone else, I can't handle the smallest things and just start crying as soon as I fail, and I have that fucking habit of crying my eyes out when I'm just feeling the slightest bit of pressure.

These past days I had those break downs way too often. I just want to let it out, it's becoming too much, too overwhelming. I feel like everything is against me and I just can't stop that voice in my head from telling me how darn worthless I am.

I wipe all those tears away, even though there are new ones running down my cheeks right after. As I give up cleaning my face of the salty tears, my hands fall limp into my lap and my gaze is just directed into the darkness of my room.

It's kind of relieving that I have my own room in this boarding school and don't have to share it with anyone else. Yet I still hate it, nothing's stopping me from crying.

As soon as I have time alone—nothing to do, no one around—my mind just start spinning. It's mostly when I'm going to bed and actually am trying to fall asleep.

I mean, how am I supposed to handle this? It's all crashing down on me; too much stress, too much to do, too much to handle. Too many people expecting too much from me.

I just wanna tell someone how I feel, I want to let it out, to cry, and to just hold onto someone. I want someone to listen to me. I don't want anyone to tell me how good I do when it's not even true, I just want them to accept me.
All I'm asking for is someone to come to me and hold me, hug me. But in the end it'd feel like I'm just using them for my own good. They'd be so annoyed, irritated.

As my sobs turn just a little louder, my thoughts keep going. The little voice in my mind doesn't compare me to others anymore—no, it's telling me how everyone is disappointed in me.

Your parents are probably blaming you for all of their problems, you're always making mistakes so it wouldn't hurt to say that something's your fault. They hate you so much, they even sent you to a boarding school. The teachers at school are probably disappointed in you since you never get any good grades, look at the E in History! And your friends, how are they even your friends? They probably just use you, or maybe they're just nice to you because they don't want to handle a fucking crybaby. What good did you ever do in your fucking life, huh? Ever did anything to help someone? No, you didn't, you're just an annoying, little motherfucker. You've probably never even noticed how everyone rolled their eyes as soon as you looked away!

My cries get louder, I don't even register it—I just sit there, motionless—, until the voice talks again. Why doesn't it just stop talking!? If I'd only hear my pathetic crying, it'd be enough already!

You fucking crybaby! Crying your little eyes out again, huh? See, that's why no one likes you. You pathetic little shit. Stop crying, for fuck's sake, you'll wake someone up! There'll be complaints about you waking everyone up at such an hour.

That's when the door to my room swings open, hitting the wall with a loud smash. A bright light from the hallway is shining into my room, blinding me for a moment, as I stop making any noise, scared for no reason.

There's someone standing in the doorway, the light behind them making them seem like a black silhouette. I can't make out who it is, my tears are blurring my vision too much to know who it is. Slowly they take a few steps inside, just so they can reach my nightlamp and turn it on. I look away immediately, not wanting to know who they are. As I listen to their footsteps, I hear them going back to the door and closing it.

Tightly I squeeze my eyes shut and my lips together. I don't want to see anything, I don't want to make a single sound. Too concentrated on that, I just notice the other person next to me as the mattress of the bed dips down a bit.

“Wanna talk, Jimin?” a deep yet so soft voice asks and I instantly know who that is. Kim Namjoon, the guy next door. I've always seen him in school. He's popular, no one who'd hang out with me.

I shake my head, my features softening a little. His voice is kind of calming and deep down I kind of want him to keep talking. I don't want to talk to him though, he probably just came here since I woke him up and he wants me to stop being this loud. “I'll shut up, I'm sorry I woke you up.” My voice is quiet and a little hoarse from crying.

It's silent for some time. No one moves, no one talks. Why isn't he leaving? Too much time for my liking passes by and we both just stay quiet. He's probably weirded out by me.

“Jimin,” he says. Why does he even know my name? I'm probably so horrible that my friends started complaining about me to others or maybe there are rumors about me.

“Jimin,” he repeats, “look at me.”

I don't want to look at him, I've cried the whole time, I look terrible. He's too nice to see me when I'm such a mess.

Then it goes silent again. Minutes go by and I keep wondering why he hasn't left yet. My mind clears a bit, the voice is going quiet as I'm too busy thinking about why Namjoon's not leaving me alone. It's frustrating me to know that the voice in my head's not done insulting and telling me how much of a fat and annoying idiot I am.

I flinch as I feel a hand grabbing my left arm. It's Namjoon, he's hugging me sideways as he makes himself more comfortable next to me.

“You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but I promise,” he says, stopping a second before continuing, “I promise you, I'm here for you.”

I really like it. His voice, it's calming and makes me relax, even if it's just a teeny tiny bit of relaxation.

Then, suddenly, he pulls me down, laying me down in his arms. His left arm is underneath my head now. I stretch my legs out so I have a better position which isn't going to hurt after a while.

“Do you still don't want to talk, Jimin?” he asks, but I don't answer. “What were you thinking about?” I still don't say anything. “You can let it all out, pour your heart out.”

Slowly tears brim up in my eyes. He's so kind, it makes me want to let go. To let go of all the things I've kept inside me, my thoughts, my feelings. I turn towards him, burying my face in his chest and fisting his hoodie with both my hands. Securely he wraps his arms around my shoulders, sending a feeling of pure safety through my whole body.

My tears leave big, wet, dark spots on his light gray hoodie. It takes some time for me to calm down again. Just when no more tears are left to cry I can stop. Carefully I lay my head against his chest, looking into the room that's dimly lit by that small lamp on my nightstand.

“You are free to talk, Jimin-ah.”

I stay silent. What if he doesn't want to listen to me talking about my problems? But would he even ask if he didn't want to know why I'm so broken right now?

A soft touch on my back brings me back to reality. Slowly and gently Namjoon rubs small circles into my back, calming me down even more. Why is he even this nice to me?

“Do you still don't want to talk, Jiminie?”

Hesitantly, I shake my head, just barely noticeable. And quietly, really quietly, I speak up. “Can we,” I begin, “Can we just  stay like this a little longer please?”

“Of course,” he answers so sincerely as he once again hugs me, this time tightly as if to assure me that he's there for me.

We lay like that for maybe just a few minutes but it already feels like we've been lying here for about an hour. Not that I wouldn't like that, spending my time quietly cuddling with Namjoon. He somehow calms me down and keeps the voice in my head away. That's all I could ever ask for. I'd like to stop the time now, to make the clocks stop ticking, and to hold this moment right here for some more. This is how I want to spend the rest of my life, cuddled up with someone who saves me from that little voice talking to me whenever it wants me to feel down.

“You're pretty, Jimin,” Namjoon says, startling me as I wasn't expecting him to say something.

I look up at him, my chin pressing into his chest as I watch him swallow every now and then. “What did you say?” I ask, my voice just as quiet as earlier.

“I said that you're really pretty,” he repeats, looking up at the ceiling. “You don't believe me, do you?”

“No, I don't,” I simply say.

“Well, for me, you are one of the prettiest people I know. I always see you sitting with your friends in the cafeteria. You look happy at first sight, but if you look closely there always is this little... Mh, this little... I don't actually know what it is, but something about you always tells me that you're not as okay as you seem.”

I listen to his every word, not only because I like his voice so much but because he really does see through me. I always try to look fine in front of my friends since I don't want them to worry about me. They already are doing so much for me, keeping me company in so many times.

“I always wanted to know what you were hiding but I also kind of always understood what you tried to keep to yourself and why. I don't know if you get what I mean,” Namjoon adds, becoming quieter towards the end.

“I see,” I mumble, putting my head back down onto his tight chest, listening to his heart beat with closed eyes. His heart's beating so fast and loud, making me wonder why I didn't notice it before.

“I know what you're going through, Jimin,” he says after some time. “All you need is someone who's willing to listen to you, someone who understands and calms you.”

Then it goes silent once more. It's amazing how there is no awkwardness in the air when no one talks. We both just appreciate the other's presence.

“Hopefully, I've found that one just now,” I admit, so softly, my voice is just barely above a whisper.