I got my eyes on you | Beomjun| Yeongyu

Dear Diary,

This is Beomgyu… Choi Beomgyu.

I guess from today, you’ll be the one to hear all the things I can’t say out loud. Don’t judge me, okay? I’ve had enough of that from the world already. I’m not asking for much—just someone to listen, someone who won’t roll their eyes or laugh when I’m being honest. Someone who won’t twist my words or brush me off like I don’t matter. And maybe, if I’m lucky, someone who won’t leave. But for now, I have you.

I’m in my second year of high school. That awkward phase where everyone is trying to figure themselves out, but somehow, I feel like I’m the only one who’s already fallen behind. I’m an introvert—not because I want to be, but because every time I try to reach out, I’m reminded why it’s easier to stay quiet. You’d think after being ignored enough times, I’d get used to it—but no. It still stings. Every. Single. Time. It’s funny, in a messed-up way, how I put my pride aside just to be part of something, only to realize I never really belonged.

I have friends—at least, that’s what it looks like from the outside. People know my name. I’m not invisible. But knowing people and being known by them? Those are two different things. I’m the one who shares notes when they forget theirs. The one who helps with their projects when they’re too lazy to do it themselves. I’m easy to talk to when they need something, easy to manipulate because—well, because I’m too kind. Too willing. And they know it. I let them use me because some part of me still hopes—still believes—that maybe, if I’m useful enough, I’ll matter. That maybe, someone will look at me and think, “I want to be his best friend.”

But no one ever does.

I’m the person everyone can lean on, but no one wants to hold onto. And even though I know—I’ve always known—that most of these friendships aren’t real, I still cling to the smallest moments when someone chooses me. Even if it’s just for a favor. I guess I’m just that desperate to feel wanted.

And God, it’s exhausting. It’s exhausting to be surrounded by people and still feel so… alone.

I wish I could say things are better at home, but they’re not. School is the only place where I can escape—at least, it used to be. Lately, even here, everything feels heavy. There are days when I sit in class, and out of nowhere, I feel this tightness in my chest like I can’t breathe. Like if I speak, I might just break down in front of everyone. But I don’t. I swallow it down because crying in front of people? That’s just another reason for them to laugh at me. Another reason for them to call me weak. Or worse—a “pick me.” As if wanting to be seen, to be understood, makes me pathetic.

I hate how much I care. I hate that no matter how many times I get hurt, I still hope. Hope that one day, someone will choose me—not because they need something, but because they want to. Because they see me for who I am, not just what I can do for them.

Is that too much to ask for?

Maybe it is.

I’m tired, diary. Tired of feeling like I’m never enough. Tired of giving so much of myself away and getting nothing in return. I just… I just want someone to tell me I matter. And mean it.

But until then, I guess I have you.

23rd March

Beomgyu shuts his diary and hides it behind the cupboard in his room—the one place he knows no one bothers to clean.

He crawls back onto his bed, sighing. “God, I have to go to school again tomorrow… and I don’t want to. I know I’ve done a lot of wrong things, but isn’t this too harsh a punishment?” He turns onto his side, his back curling inward as if to shield himself from the weight of his thoughts. A tear slips down his cheek, and his throat aches—thick and heavy with a sob he refuses to let out. He bites it back and forces himself to sleep.