'Tomorrow will be better'

'But what if it's not?'

'Then you say it again tomorrow. Because it might be. You never know, right? At some point ,tomorrow will be better'.

A little quote I had found under a depression page on Instagram. I wasn't much of a social addict but this find, had been great motivation to push forward even on those dull ,gloomy days when I never wanted to leave the comfort of my bed.

Let's just say - life had not been a valley of flowers or a beautiful sunset. It had been more like a tsunami. Hurdles and pain hitting all at once with no way to contain the outbreak of horrors. The damage left behind was my heart. It had been wrecked and shattered to trillions of pieces.

My father passed on from lung cancer. He hadn't suffered for long. I had just turned 12 and moving into high school soon. I needed him and he left. Ofcourse he had no control of this. It's just life. The decision of god like my mother and pastor mentioned.

Growing up without that father figure should have turned me into this raging slut who craved older men and yearned for a lust love but I didn't. Such things should remain in books and movies. My mother did well in raising me. I never felt alone and she made sure of that. I've only ever had one friend, her names Brianna. I always hoped we'd go to college together and rent out an apartment just to be roomies. We were inseparable and she was there for me through my depression and pain when papa passed. The love I received was like a bandaid for my bleeding wounds. They made tomorrow better.

Unfortunately cupid had other plans to disrupt mine and mama's world.

She had met a man. A business man. Younger than she was. I guess she was swooned by his Korean beauty and brains. He was undeniably handsome. Something you'd find on the cover of a model magazine.

I was 15 when she first introduced me to her lover. I wish I could say I hated him but I didn't. He was everything a man should be. He was comforting and soft and kind. Mama deserved nothing but the best because papa was the best too.

Let's just say 5 years down the road, they're happily married. It's been 2 official years since their small garden wedding. My grandmother was not too pleased that they were getting married after such short time of knowing one another. I mean 3 years of building trust and love is quite long in my books. If mama was happy then I was too. But -

I didn't know what to address him as.

He wasn't papa.
Should I have started calling him father? Dad? Steppy? Guardian ? The best part was , he didn't mind what I called him. We had formed a bond in 5 years and I appreciated his efforts in showing me he was worthy of being with my mother.

Since we were comfortable, I was allowed to call him by his name.

jungkook .