♡ ♡ ♡

female idol + era;

[ORIG.] PRISTIN_OFFICIAL TWITTER UPDATE:

It’s been almost a year. The Blinks are becoming crazed. “Soon”, they mutter, over and over. You do not have the courage to ask them what is soon.

“Did you see that picture of Minhyuk?” somebody asks you. “Which Minhyuk?”, you ask. Their eyes darken and stare off. “You know. Minhyuk.” Later on you ask someone else which Minhyuk they meant. They give you the same look. “You know. Minhyuk.” You give up.

You are doing your homework. A song starts to build up in your head, and, unwillingly, you find yourself humming along. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry naega naega naega meonjeo nege nege nege ppajeo ppajeo ppajeo beoryeo baby.” You find yourself doing the dance. How did it come to this.

Allkpop posts another article accusing an artist of something they didn’t do. You hear an evil, hissing laugh from your computer screen while reading the article. You ignore it. Everybody knows what their real goal is. Nobody says anything. They mustn’t.

Sometime in the past, you discovered two new groups around the same time. You always get them confused. You are not convinced that they are even two separate groups at all. Your friend tries to explain the differences, but they’re the same. One releases a new album. You buy it and look for it in your music library under the other group’s name. It is not there. You never learn the truth.

The groups keep getting bigger. They assemble into a line that will not fit into a single camera frame. They continue to recruit new members, vowing to take over the world. You’re not sure if they’re a kpop group or a cult anymore. You follow them anyway.

An album is released. “I have no money.” you say. You buy the album anyway. It arrives and you vow this is the last time. “I’m never buying another album again.” you say.

You’re scrolling through Twitter when you see an article about a group announcing a comeback. You click on the tweet to look at the replies. They stare back at you. “Flops. Stan Loona.”, the first one says. You close the replies.

An account on instagram only posts pictures with red circles on them. Everybody says that the circles are unnecessary, that the circled point was obvious anyway. They’re wrong. Only a few know the truth of what the circle holds.

Another album is released. “I have no money.”, you say. You buy the album anyway. It arrives and you vow this is the last time. “I’m never buying another album again.” you say.

You are in an exam. You hear a vague, familiar sounding song in the back of your mind. You try not to focus on it, to chase it away, but it comes anyway. “Ch ch ch ch chewing gum ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch.”

You watch your 106th unhelpful guide on YouTube. Time ceased to exist after the 17th. Your brain left after the 27th. The guides are very helpful. You wonder why they continue to undersell themselves. When you look in your recommended videos, there are 74 more. You watch them all. When you have finally finished every guide, you are an enlightened and knowledgeable being. Yet you remember none of it.

You read a twitter article on some group that you may or may not like. You have lost track. When you open the replies, a chorus of “Stan Loona” burts through the screen. You close the replies.

You see that twitter user ‘kpop predictions’ has posted. You read their prophecy and move on. You have learned not to mess with things you don’t understand.

Another album is released. “I have no money.” you say. You never have any money. You’re unsure how or why you’re buying these albums. You buy the album anyway. It arrives and you vow this is the last time. “I’m never buying another album again.” you say.

You spend hours scrolling through a single tumblr tag. You reblog everything you like. You leave the tag, satisfied. When you come back to it later, everything is the same. You reblog everything again. You think you can hear your followers crying, begging you. You pretend you can’t hear it.

Somebody asks you if you’ve seen Jisoo’s new hair. You nod, not knowing which Jisoo they mean. You do not even bother asking. You know you will not get a real answer. It is best to just agree.

You are at work. It is going well until you hear a crescendo of a very painfully familiar song building up in your head. You beg it to stop. It laughs at you and keeps building until, finally: “Ring ding dong, ring ding dong. Ring diggy ding diggy ding ding ding.”