Go away, Yeonjun (votes)

"light"

The night was freezing; time seemed to have passed, and he felt as if he were floating in the middle of a vast black ocean, but he wasn't drowning in it, he was simply... breathing. His body wasn't touching the ground; his hands itched to touch that tiny sphere of light that existed in that bottomless pit; his eyes were heavy and his throat was dry. He didn't understand or know how he had gotten there; he only remembered... what were those memories?
He only remembered being such a happy child, someone who shared his greatest adventures in his backyard with four other boys—five of them playing at being heroes of a magical world. He remembered eating and laughing with them as they said that one day they would go to that world where sparks of light flew from their hands, where they could be themselves without the teasing of others, without the criticism that stifled their incredible fantasies, that desire to escape the real world, the most boring world.

When had that been? I couldn't remember exactly.
Who were those children? Why did he remember that? Did it have anything to do with it? He was so confused that all he could do was grab his head and try to remember. He couldn't.
He got up (oddly enough) and walked around, unable to understand anything; everything was black and silent. Until he remembered

She remembered a tender smile, like a gummy bear being squeezed, so sweet and innocent, those dimples that appeared as she told him, "It's okay, everything's okay."
He remembered laughter, shouts, lame jokes; but he also remembered tears, laments, despair, frustration. And amidst all that, he also remembered a long journey, and then, emptiness.

"Everything's fine"
"We're ok"
"Do it"
"We're ok"

"Yeonjun, we're okay."

He screamed like he never had before, he didn't know why, but his head was pounding with so many memories flooding him. Suddenly he saw his reflection in that strange apartment, tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't understand why, but he knew that what was pounding in his head and heart were memories etched into his soul. Those boys, that laughter, those shouts—everything that vaguely came to mind were memories, the very ones that would tell him what he was doing in that dark and lonely place.

"Could you help me be happy?"
"You're right"
"I just want to protect them, I want us to be happy, I want to live in the fantasy we all long for."
"I can give you anything you want, but remember there's always a price to pay."
"Whatever it is, as far as they're concerned, it's fine."



A short paragraph about something I've been thinking about for months. Remember, the important thing is to collect votes.