FLASH! CLICK! SNAP!

The cameras are on me. The cameras are always on me. I signed my life away on a contract, and now I'm a slave to the consumer. I am no artist. I am perfected. I am perfection.

You want me?

Come and get me.

You will eat your heart out.

And as I give you my life,

I shall smile through my tears.

• 유강기?
• 심화세?

• SOLOS
• WARNING
• PLAYLIST

유 강 기

YOO KANG-GI

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심. 화. 세.

Kang-gi came to be known as the Shimhwasae (심화세) of Korea.
What does this mean?

knows no end to her selflessness, so much so that she ends up sacrificing her virgin life to restore the vision of her blind father. This is a sort of virtuous selflessness that is respected in women and, because of Kang-gi's sacrifices, became associated with him.

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SOLOS

Solos will be posted here.

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TRIGGER WARNING

This is an 18+ account. Please avoid this account if the following will upset you:

Sexual InnuendoTalk of sexFlirtingHomophobia / Reconciliation of HomophobiaHardcore BDSMMinor blood and gore

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

Coming soon.

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WATER

Splash!

My hand lifts from the water. The thunder rumbles just outside of my window; I'm hardly scared by that sort of thing anymore.

My fingers glide against my soft, bruised skin, gently wetting the welts with water in hopes that the discoloration fades away. I quietly stare at the shades of blue from the last rehabilitation session. I know this is right, it just has to be. Dad wants what’s best for me. He’s just trying to protect me. He’s just looking out for me.

My attempts to find the good only result in tears. Soft drips echo out between my chin and the water as my tears join the sea within the bathtub. The sting… It’s just too much. This can’t be done to me with good intention. What was so bad about a boy liking another boy, anyway?

The very thought makes me flinch. I remember every beating like I’m reliving it, but the first time… Even when I hadn’t endured multiple yet, I still tried to reassure myself… That my father was doing what was in my best interest.

I ran home from the studio with a grin on my face and told my dad that I liked a boy; his name was Bi, and he was going to be the main vocalist of the group we were training to be in. But before I could finish expressing my joy, a strike hit the side of my face and I hit the floor with a yelp.

Tears instantly left me as my sensitive feelings were far more than hurt. My father spat at me and kicked me in the gut as I sobbed and heard his words.

“This is how a faggot lives. Is this how you want to live?”

“Even if I could save you, who could love you?”

“You’re a disgrace. Gay boys go straight to hell and fixing you won’t change that.”

I felt so ashamed of my feelings—something I couldn’t change despite how badly I wanted to. I wanted to be who my father wanted me to be, and even if I never spoke about liking boys again, those beatings continued. Savage slams of my frail teenage body against furniture as my own father drew the blood from my skin. My tears and cries were pointless and so I abandoned them, accepting every reconciliating hit to my body and trying my best to believe that this was right.

My eyes wander to the porcelain edge of the tub. They remind me of a girl. She was always with him and had a smile that made me so happy. If I ever liked a girl, it was her. We had the same last name, though. I could only admire her as a sister. But her skin was like porcelain, and she was radiant…

My tears haven’t stopped. Sometimes I wish my body would just shut up when I do. But it insists on letting its feelings out. I sniffle and cry and cry… Like a bitch. Like a gay bitch.

But I’m not gay. No.

—

“Kang-gi! Come on, let’s go have a good time.”

A dainty arm wraps around my own as I stare out of the performance center window. The city is alive and so am I. I’ve never felt so good about a night as I have about this one.

I look down to the girl pulling me out to the car. She’s absolutely gorgeous and poised, her hair half-up and half-down, held back by a tiara-like headband. Her body is petite and accentuated by a beautiful dress that stops around her thighs. For a date like me, it leaves nothing to the imagination, and I don’t mind one bit.

A man walking into the performance center catches my eye as I leave. He’s with another guy. But when I find myself studying him too long, a sting rips through my body and my ears ring like I’ve been slammed against a wall.

‘Don’t be a fag, Kang-gi,’ I say to myself.

‘Don’t be gay.’

Who could ever love me as a gay boy?

Before I know it, the date is over and I’m right back in my apartment. I wash my face at the sink and hop in the shower. As the warm water hits my skin, I always flinch. And halfway through the shower, I sob. I don’t know who I am anymore. All I am is the main dancer of MERCURY. That’s it. That’s all I’ll ever be: Outstanding visual, main dancer and Korea’s Shimhwasae, Yoo Kang-gi. I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want to be afraid of who I am and who I take interest in. I don’t want to be another idol’s arm candy who she begs to take her virginity away from her, and I certainly don’t want to be the guy who says yes to it. But I am. The dopamine gets me through the night, and the satisfaction of the girl thinking it was something special for both of us. That’s the only way I can sleep.

Faggots don’t get rest. Gay boys don’t sleep well. Gay boys go to hell. Gay boys don’t have kids. Gay boys are the devil’s children.

And I’ve got the emotional scars and the PTSD quirks to prove it.

Just run me under some warm water or force me to stare at a boy. Then you’ll see. You’ll see my tragically panic and hate myself. You’ll see who Korea’s Shimhwasae truly is.

Because who could ever love a faggot like me...

Right?

conflict

I’m so scared.

I know you are.

Will you help me?

I’m trying to.

You shouldn’t.

But why?

Because you wouldn’t understand.

Why not?

Because you’re not me. Only I know me.

Heart, you are broken.

I will be okay, Head.

Let me help you understand, Heart.

Head cannot help Heart.

Let me in.

Never.

Kang-gi stared in shock and fear at the polished marble floor he quivered on, shuddering as vermilion drops rolled down his back and stained it. His own blood had been drawn by his own father.

“Why, Dad…? Why are we still cleansing me? I don’t like boys—!”

THWIP—The belt slashed into his delicate skin again, his vocal chords failing to voice pain in pure fear that it would result in another lashing.

“You were a faggot once, and I don’t raise faggots. What were you?!” My father commanded.

“I was a dirty fag—!” I choked out, sobbing within my body where nobody could see.

His voice boomed again, “And what the FUCK are you now?!”

“A straight man, sir—!”

My limbs almost gave out in that moment of vulnerability. I could never forget the pain.

—

“Why are we… still...?” I asked groggily as I watched the leather whip slide off of my sweat soaked torso, leaving a mark where it had just lashed into me. The woman between my legs laughed; she had paid good money to have me. Blue bruises lined my body in perfect harmony with red lipstick stains. I was humiliated just as always when it came to this woman’s cleansing rituals.

“Because your Daddy didn’t raise a fag, sweetheart. And I have to make sure you stay that way.”

Another whip, as I grit my teeth and groan at the feeling of rope grinding into my wrists. This sadistic psycho was far from a woman.

“Now,” she began, brushing a hand against my profile and relishing in the way I flinched like a dog, “let’s put that gift of yours to use.”

—

It’s not easy having that kind of life and past. It makes it hard not to cry. If I hadn’t been beaten out of tears a long time ago, I’d probably be a crybaby.

Is it wrong of me to want things?

I stared out of the window my room as the other three members hopped in the company car and went off to do some shopping. They didn’t know, and it was for the best. But God, why doesn’t anybody look deeper?!

Why is it that nobody looks at me and thinks, ‘Hm, he seems like something’s not right’. No, no. They just send me gifts and food and write me these sweet cards. Nobody really loves me. I want love so badly, but I don’t deserve it.

I hate who I am. I hate every aspect of myself.

I hate my existence, so much so that my mind has been trying to rationalize the ultimate sin: to take my own life. I live every day in fear and every other day in more fear. And all I want is somebody who holds me and says, “You deserve some love.”

Just once… Please.

Help me.

Love me.

Support me.