#type.prmpt

                                 how much time must there be before one knows                                 what one feels?                                                                                — l. hansberry                                                                    ★

( + magazine interview meme ; what’s a song that you’d like to cover? )“i’ve been working really hard lately on rapping, particularly more slow rapping, and my english, so i think a song like passionfruit by drake would be a really fun song to cover!”

a lie; a big, fat fucking lie,ban hyera doesn’t believe in practicing, no, not when it doesn’t benefit her image nor her acting.

“it’s been over two years since cherry bomb! debuted, and i think i’ve grown a lot since then. i used to be really insecure about my rapping, but my members and my teachers have supported and helped me a lot to get me where i am today.”

lie. lying. liar.

“i know i can never be as good as drake, but i’d love to give my own interpretation of the song if i can. it’d be interesting to see the lyrics from a female perspective, don’t you think?”

she giggles through gritted teeth; since when has twisting the truth become so easy? since when has her heart grown so heartless, so empty? is it like this for everyone, she wonders, to wish and to unfortunately regret, to lose sight of what was once so important. to be disgusted by yourself, to be too ashamed to meet the other’s eyes.

                                                                 ★

                                   everything that’s worth having is some trouble.                                                                            — l. m. montgomery                                                                     ★

( + magazine interview meme ; is the “you” on camera different from the “you” off camera? )it’s as if they can see right through her facade, through the carefully-sewn curtains she has shrouded her inner self in. thick velvet can protect her no longer, no, when it---like any other shield---can be just as easily worn and torn; so when the drapes are pulled back, when the lights dim, she is left alone. exposed. solitary in a flickering spotlight amongst a stage of wooden boards and surrounding darkness.

for a second, she’s scared.but only for a second.

for ban hyera remembers that she asked for this, chose such a path that forced her life into the public’s limelight---and then she recalls that she’s forgone her privacy long before that, yes, for it is the only sensible decision to make when born into a family of such aristocracy and scandal. that the signing of soul away five years ago meant the erasure of ban hyera and the commemoration of a new character, of a new mask to don and parade.

is it right to call cherry bomb!’s hera a persona when she hasso simply embodied her whole being?

and so she gulps, avoids the worrisome glances of her group-mates on either side of her for she knows full-and-well that a gaze in their direction means a slip in her bluff, a crack in fine piece of china.

                                                                  ★

                           when is the right time for anything? who knows? living                           is an art, not a science.                                                                                      — j. ferris                                                                     ★

( + magazine interview meme ; what’s a song by another group that you wished you’d put out instead? )how she wishes it would be easy to just say, a song where i can sing.

but alas,the world can never really be that simple, can it?

and so she stiffens, finds herself unconsciously straightening back and tightening grip in laps. fingernails press into palm until whiteness peeks through pale skin, clenched jaw slightly blurring eyesight and wavering focus. she spares a glance to her group members, observing the movement of their own lips but silencing their respective answers—she doesn’t need realism right now, no, she can’t deal with it.

because, for them, this isn’t a problem—this would never be a problem. the insecurity, that is; the questioning of whether or not this was worth it, if you’re worth it. the hard work and the sweat and the tears and the countless hours upon hours of doubting—god, they never tell you that this is always the worst part; the second-guessing yourself, the regretting of every single decision you’ve ever made in your life (especially one as big as this, you know, becoming an idol and all).

she gulps, blinks once. twice. as the interviewer turns their head toward her, head perked and tilted in anticipation for hyera’s response; oh, how she wishes it would be easy to just run away.

                                                                   ★

                  all i really wanted was to try and live the life that was spontaneously                  welling up within me. why was that so difficult?                                                                                                   — h. hesse                                                                     ★

( + magazine interview meme ; tell us about your personal style, what clothes do you like to wear? )suddenly, she’s reminded of her mother—there’s no ill-feeling, really, but the question, as innocent as it seems, transports her back to a previous time, to a simpler (yet sadder) period of her life.

mother brushes away at hyera’s fly-away’s, presses and pats the wrinkles on lace blouse and pencil skirt. back straight, chin up; she doesn’t dare move her eyes from the mirror, no, for money has taught her well that the best things in life come from sitting still, shutting up, and paying attention. she subdues the threatening grimace at the transformation of such an appearance, clenches jaw at her own unfamiliar reflection. porcelain-like skin compliments her doll-like features, along with the lack of expression and hushed movement.

and she falters, though, amongst her thoughts as such memories delay her reaching of a conclusion—what is her personal style? for ban hyera, surprisingly enough, isn’t exactly sure herself.

                          sometimes the space between knowing what to do and                           actually doing it is a very short walk. other times it is an                           impossible expanse.                                                                                     — d. levithan                                                                     ★

( + magazine interview meme ; is there a genre or sound you’d like to put out with your group in the future? )now this is a double-edged sword—for there is no possible way for ban hyera to duel in this match without being cut, slashed, and wounded. for she is protected without a shield, shot at before she even has the chance to raise her shield. a fallen soldier before the battle’s begun; so what are the last words she wants to be remembered by?

how does she answer without sounding pretentious? uneducated? envious? insecure? worries not about her own general wishes, no, but rather her personal image—because you see here, dear, the music industry has never really been about the music; in fact, it is everything but. a tycoon such a this embroils itself in the theatrics of publicity and entertainment, of drama and scandals. for the read in-between the lines of a music staff would be to discern the tiny melodramatics that lie behind the scenes, the stanzas and measures denoting the passing times of has-been’s and currently-are’s.

so she’s hesitant—yes, hyera bites her lower lip and curls her toes inward beneath the leather of her shoes as she pauses. pause. gulp. and she breathes, once, twice, before her mouth slightly opens and falters through a response to such a question.