SILENT STRUGGLES

Ewla pov:

I was now at the airport bidding my family goodbye to Seoul. Their eyes held unshed tears, creating a glistening mirage leaving me wondering whose were real and whose were fake. I could feel rage from deep within my soul just by looking at her, she who had left my family broken, as she tried to wipe off fictitious crocodile tears. My brother stared at me with his usual poker face. At least he wasn't fake, but who knew what was behind that poker face that had managed to fool everyone? Wasn't a normal goodbye like my father's not enough? I mean, it's not like any of them ever bothered to talk to me all those days when they found me passed out on my bedroom floor. We were family but only bonded by blood. Deep down we all knew that we were total strangers to each other who acknowledged each other when one of us had left. Having gone through a lot of mental struggles with none of them noticing had proved how much of a united family we were (note the sarcasm).

Looking at the twenty faces present, the only one with a hint of genuine concern was my father's, creating a set of contrast to the indifference of the others. Yet he had also broken a side of me somehow, when he married that homewrecker not a week after losing my mother. One thing I knew was that traveling to Seoul was a gamble on my fragile mental health. I was going away from the small heaven I had created that was my room. The only place I had felt safe in, with the many music posters on the pink walls and the universe ceiling that glowed every night to create the long-lost warmth I was missing. The full-length mirror with a pink frame that showed my reflection whenever I looked at it was just the perfect way to comfort me. I was just an empty shell on the run. Had they not said that we needed to take risks to achieve in life, so here I was ready to risk it at the cost of my mental health. I had survived long enough though, so what would prevent me from doing it again? Perhaps, amidst the chaos of a foreign land, I'd find the change I so desperately needed. That was enough reason to keep me going. Somewhere I knew I was just like a frail grass in a whirling wind. I mean a part of my dream was coming true, but that didn't mean I didn't have any fears. I had a severe case of social anxiety, and I was going to a foreign country.

After going through all the inspections at the airport, I board the plane. Sited on the window seat in the economy class, I couldn't help but admire the vibrance of the sky: the cotton-like bundles of clouds were first to blow my mind. As we crossed the blue ocean, everything was screaming elegance, showcasing the undeniable beauty of nature. Not forgetting the vast forests and the snowcapped mountains. Can you blame me though? Nature was extravagant in it's perfection. This was my first time on a plane too. The slight turbulence didn't shake me at all. After all, nature had done my attention the honor. Just a mechanism I had developed to help me adapt whenever I had a mental breakdown, the smallest things seemed to capture my attention. That, on its own, made me feel like I was in a different universe.

In my whole life never had I ever thought that a six-hour flight would feel like a two hour's drive, but nature had its own way of making everything twice as fast, creating the perfect balance. We alighted at last. At the exit was a burner that helped me locate the company bus that was already waiting for me. I was not only excited but also a nervous wreck. As we took off to the company, I couldn't help but admire the city of Seoul. As the journey to the company continued, every turn we took the city revealed another facet of its character: complex, chaotic, yet undeniably beautiful. From my seat on the bus, I watched the stories of the city pass by, each one a thread in the rich tapestry that is this place I shall call home. This was where my future was to begin, a new life that would either build and heal me or wreck the wreckage I was completely. The company's towering structure promised a sanctuary or a storm as we entered. Inside, twenty trainees buzzed with anticipation.

After registering, I was taken to the dorm rooms where I was shown to my room and introduced to the rest of the trainees who seemed to have arrived as well. I could spot that only three of us were of a different nationality though I was the only one who was African. I also didn't know Korean besides the basics I had learned from watching k dramas. I just hoped that I would be able to make friends, which seemed impossible in my mind, since even communicating with my own family was a struggle.

After arranging my things in the assigned room that I was sharing with three other roommates who were absent, we were called to be shown around, since most of us had just arrived; the practice room, the studio, the canteen and other places that were of necessity. As I looked around, people were already in groups. Yet again, I lingered on the fringes as an observer caged by invisible walls hoping that someone would miraculously approach me. I felt the solitude seep in, but it was not a new feeling after all. After that, I retreated to my room as I waited for lunch with a novel as my sole companion. It had always been this way; with the pages being an escape and a silent acknowledgment of my solitude. I don't know why I anticipated a change. While others ventured out, I found solace within the written word, a haven for a heart not yet ready to explore, or maybe it's because I had no one to go with. I always loved being indoors stuck to a book.