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CHANMINA - LADY
CHANMINA - LADY
ちゃん
みな
CHANMINA
Me Enamoré
ABOUT
OCTOBER 14, THE BEGINNING.
箸より重いものを持ったことがない
Trembling breaths and choked sobs filling the night, a girl, clutching her stomach from the blooming pain of internal ripping. The excruciating feeling of it all ripping through her, like claws on paper, until she was sobbing into the dirty, kitchen floor. A girl of nineteen, clutching the table leg, all in her lonesome, while she births her mistake. That mistake was the apple of Father's eye. That mistake, was Mina Otomonai.
With her father as a entrepreneur, Mina grew up going this way and that with him, for her mother couldn't stand to look at her. Look at the girl that gave her beautiful figure a pear shape, or gave her belly stretch marks. The girl who consumed all of her beauty and wore it like a veil of protection. Doe eyed, plump lips, and a figure that blooms at the ripe age of thirteen. Her voice was the only saving grace, in her mother's eyes. Raspy, never being that beautiful, tinkling high tone that so many girls her age have. Perhaps, in Mother's eyes, it was good that she had taken in so much cigarette smoke when Mina was in the womb. Perhaps that was the best.
It finally came time for Father, Mother, and Mistake to settle down, moving from her newest home in Japan, and Mother's home there, to South Korea, the other half of the Mistake's heritage. Mina knew, already, a bit of Korean. Her accent was heavy, from her Father's Busan accent, and her inherited Japanese decent, and she ended up delving into slang. Shortening words, speaking with 'disrespect' that so many wanted to label her with. She was a Mistake, forever, and always, in Mother's eyes, and that only amplified as time went on here. Here being South Korea. Moving to Seoul was the next big trip, before Father up and left, needed to go to France for a change, and the Mistake was stuck with a decision:
Stay with Mother, and prepare for her future, or go with Father, and delve into the joys of travelling, but be stuck behind in school.
She was already ridiculed for her grades, from the age of 8 [ when she'd moved there, initially, ] up until the decision at 15. The Mistake chose to stay, and Mother was less than ecstatic. Mother was no stranger to pain; Mother believed that she was caused pain when her Mistake came into the picture, and she was alone, so why not inflict it on her? What coudl a mistake do? Have her word against Mother's? Not if that fear was implanted in her. Most kids at school thought that the bruises on her legs, the scrapes on her face, the bandaids on her body, were from her continuous rough housing. From her constantly running from truant police. From her being a reckless kid. But they were far from right. She was a Mistake, and Mistakes needed to be erased, unless proven worthy.
And worthy, she was not.
Months passed in a house that held little warmth, caught up in her own ways, Mother neglected to watch, to listen, to understand that her Mistake was blooming into a well known 'CHANMINA'. An underground rapper, sneaking off past curfew to dive into the scene in warehouses, spitting slick like any other, making a name for herself, and being watched. It wasn't until her Mistake came home with papers of consent did she see the potential in her Mistake. Her Mistake finally bloomed into her Mina when Mother's signature flew in navy blue across the dotted line.
Mina grew, finally receiving more warmth than she had ever been blessed with by Mother, and Mother finally was seeing that she was more than the stretch marks on her belly, than the dimples in her thighs. But that jealousy still glittered like the emerald demon within Mother's eyes. In the way Mina walked, in the way Mina's grades grew, in the way Father called to congratulate her, but never to show affection to Mother. It grew, and grew, and grew, until she got the notice that Mina wasn't going to be home.
Jailed. On house arrest. And Mother would be damned if she would let a criminal, even if just under suspicion, in her home.
Mina was kicked out, rightfully so, at the age of 18, and she ended up bunking with a friend. Now, that freedom runs rampant, and it started with a man she liked to call, endearingly, 'Ming Ming'.
箸より重いものを持ったことがない
Trembling breaths and choked sobs filling the night, a girl, clutching her stomach from the blooming pain of internal ripping. The excruciating feeling of it all ripping through her, like claws on paper, until she was sobbing into the dirty, kitchen floor. A girl of nineteen, clutching the table leg, all in her lonesome, while she births her mistake. That mistake was the apple of Father's eye. That mistake, was Mina Otomonai.
With her father as a entrepreneur, Mina grew up going this way and that with him, for her mother couldn't stand to look at her. Look at the girl that gave her beautiful figure a pear shape, or gave her belly stretch marks. The girl who consumed all of her beauty and wore it like a veil of protection. Doe eyed, plump lips, and a figure that blooms at the ripe age of thirteen. Her voice was the only saving grace, in her mother's eyes. Raspy, never being that beautiful, tinkling high tone that so many girls her age have. Perhaps, in Mother's eyes, it was good that she had taken in so much cigarette smoke when Mina was in the womb. Perhaps that was the best.
It finally came time for Father, Mother, and Mistake to settle down, moving from her newest home in Japan, and Mother's home there, to South Korea, the other half of the Mistake's heritage. Mina knew, already, a bit of Korean. Her accent was heavy, from her Father's Busan accent, and her inherited Japanese decent, and she ended up delving into slang. Shortening words, speaking with 'disrespect' that so many wanted to label her with. She was a Mistake, forever, and always, in Mother's eyes, and that only amplified as time went on here. Here being South Korea. Moving to Seoul was the next big trip, before Father up and left, needed to go to France for a change, and the Mistake was stuck with a decision:
Stay with Mother, and prepare for her future, or go with Father, and delve into the joys of travelling, but be stuck behind in school.
She was already ridiculed for her grades, from the age of 8 [ when she'd moved there, initially, ] up until the decision at 15. The Mistake chose to stay, and Mother was less than ecstatic. Mother was no stranger to pain; Mother believed that she was caused pain when her Mistake came into the picture, and she was alone, so why not inflict it on her? What coudl a mistake do? Have her word against Mother's? Not if that fear was implanted in her. Most kids at school thought that the bruises on her legs, the scrapes on her face, the bandaids on her body, were from her continuous rough housing. From her constantly running from truant police. From her being a reckless kid. But they were far from right. She was a Mistake, and Mistakes needed to be erased, unless proven worthy.
And worthy, she was not.
Months passed in a house that held little warmth, caught up in her own ways, Mother neglected to watch, to listen, to understand that her Mistake was blooming into a well known 'CHANMINA'. An underground rapper, sneaking off past curfew to dive into the scene in warehouses, spitting slick like any other, making a name for herself, and being watched. It wasn't until her Mistake came home with papers of consent did she see the potential in her Mistake. Her Mistake finally bloomed into her Mina when Mother's signature flew in navy blue across the dotted line.
Mina grew, finally receiving more warmth than she had ever been blessed with by Mother, and Mother finally was seeing that she was more than the stretch marks on her belly, than the dimples in her thighs. But that jealousy still glittered like the emerald demon within Mother's eyes. In the way Mina walked, in the way Mina's grades grew, in the way Father called to congratulate her, but never to show affection to Mother. It grew, and grew, and grew, until she got the notice that Mina wasn't going to be home.
Jailed. On house arrest. And Mother would be damned if she would let a criminal, even if just under suspicion, in her home.
Mina was kicked out, rightfully so, at the age of 18, and she ended up bunking with a friend. Now, that freedom runs rampant, and it started with a man she liked to call, endearingly, 'Ming Ming'.
PREROGATIVE
A go getter, in your face, kind of gal, who rarely takes no for an answer. Through her own personal hell, and back, she's a firecracker. Laughter radiaes on the daily, and her arms are always open for comfort. Despite this, her eyes can be cold - though those hickory hues of plenty scorch through many, they only burn for one, and those who witness that, realize just how chilled her iris is. .
DIS/LIKES
STUDIES
DISCOURSE
CURFEWS
LAZY DAYS
AGE LIMITS
ROUGH NIGHTS
TOO BITTER/TOO SWEET
ONCE UPON A TIME
SAYING 'I'M SORRY'
EQUAL TREATMENTS
LOVER
There's a story here, one that isn't happy, but not sad. A story of infatuation that reaches to the stars. Stars that he had once stolen for me, and told me to hide behind my lips, so that each time he made me smile, he would witness the galaxy in our bliss. My first love, he's still here. My first love that leaves my heart as empty as my arms, my first love that I could never be angry with. He's flirtatious, he's courageous, he's everything, and so much more, and he flaunts it. You all see it when you walk into a room with him. His arms are warm, and his lap is snug, his words soothe you, just as they have done to me. I'm lost. Always lost. I flipped him off the first time we met, and even though my heart beats for him,
I wish I had never laid eyes on the reaper of my heart.
When he touches me, there are butterflies- no, there are lions in my chest, and it feels good. It feels right. But I know his touch, I know where he's touched, who, what, when, and why. I know his kind. I found out a bit too late, because now I'm stuck. Stuck in this scene, and I don't want to leave..
I wish I had never laid eyes on the reaper of my heart.
When he touches me, there are butterflies- no, there are lions in my chest, and it feels good. It feels right. But I know his touch, I know where he's touched, who, what, when, and why. I know his kind. I found out a bit too late, because now I'm stuck. Stuck in this scene, and I don't want to leave..
[ scroll ] OBSESSION
"Ming Ming"
Hyunwoo
"Emmy"
Jongdae
"Kiji"