A mug crashes on the ground and all its contents spill out. Intuitively we know that this process is irreversible. Things have a way of getting disorganized, but they are not so good at rearranging.

A cup is neat.

When it breaks, it is messy.

The word for this in physics is ENTHRIOPIA. The more entropy there is in a place, the more messy, cloudy, and useless it is.

The entropy of a system always has to increase.

When a cup breaks or milk mixes with coffee, that's fine according to the second law of thermodynamics because the entropy of those things increases.

But if your expectation is that the cup is reconstituted or that the milk and coffee separate, what you expect is that the entropy falls. That would violate that law.

This is not how the universe works. Time simply cannot flow any other way because that would decrease entropy and violate the second law.

The entropy of the Universe, the disorder, is always increasing. Always.

That means that at some point in the distant future, our entire Universe will be in a state of total disorder.

YOONGI
Date: December 24th, 2018

It was Christmas Eve.

There were no more people flocking the streets, Everyone must be home with their families, celebrating and having dinner.

Yoon had no way of knowing, because he hadn't moved all afternoon. He was alone at the funeral home, in the room in which the ceremony had been held.

He stood in front of the closed casket, a silent battle taking place inside his mind. He was staring at his father's memorial photo and waiting for the tears to come, but none appeared.

Just anger. A painful anger, but anger, nonetheless.

There was no need to fake the grief he didn't feel; the few people who had come all left before nightfall due to the particular date.

His sister had been there for a considerable amount of time before returning to take care of their mother. She had taken the day off and was not going to the hospital.

Yoon clenched his fists, locking eyes with those of the man in the photo, who oblivious to his tragic reality returned the look with a pleasant smile.

He felt so upset.

His older sister's words had been far from helpful. They only fuelled his anger.

<< Minutes ago, her sister gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. There was no need further words to be spoken. She was about to take off.

Yoongi turned toward her. The young woman was red-eyed with makeup running down her face, streaks of Mascara blotching her cheeks.

She had cried.

She could have.

He watched her silently, unable to form any words. His sister grimaced, and he thought it was supposed to be a comforting smile. It was not.

-He doesn't deserve your hatred ...- she finally murmured, directing her gaze to the flowers that adorned her father's bed.

His body tensed. Gritting his teeth, he held back a rather inappropriate response. His mouth felt dry.

-You don't know what happened. No one knows ...- added the young woman, returning to focus on the face of her brother.

The struggle to hold his tongue failed miserably.

-He wasn't working his ..- the boy snapped indignantly. Around him a couple of people who had come to offer condolences turned their heads, so he forced himself to lower his voice even though he wanted to scream in frustration- He was in the damn car, with that teammate of him .. Far from the hospital. There is not much to clarify. - he said through his teeth.

His sister was silent. Her irritated eyes crystallized once again with unshed tears. Her lips formed a straight line. She just gave him another squeeze, unable to add more to the conversation. >>

He felt his blood boil. How could he have done that to his mother? She hadn't even wanted to leave her room due to the pain and humiliation she felt.
The one who had to identify the disfigured remains after the crash was his sister. Doctor Min's sweet and faithful wife, hadn't been able to.

His heart and mind where in dismay. He loved his father. He had admired him all his life. He was a man dedicated to fighting nothing more and nothing less than cancer. Min was a strong, noble and good man. To his son, he always had been.

How was he supposed to face the fact, that something as sudden and coincidental as car accident had taken away his father away forever?

Yoongi felt unable to remain longer in that space. He was choking on his own thoughts as the air was getting heavier. The scent of flowers made him dizzy, his skin had become strangely prickly and he felt an odd tingling sensation in his fingers. Feeling utterly fatigued, he turned on his heel to get away from those four walls and the smiling figure in the photograph.

"I need fresh air ..." he thought, trying to keep a calm demeanor despite the sudden discomfort.

He headed for the exit. The door screeched in dismay as he tried to push it open, but it was if his hand was slept away by an invisible barrier, making him curse under his breath. He boxed his way out with the help of his elbow, then fell into a steady run. He needed to get away from the funeral-home, breathing only shallow puffs of air that didn't seem to fill his lungs. A slight headache began to rise from the back of his neck. By then he was convinced that probably his blood pressure had considerably dropped because he had not eaten in a while.

When he reached the corner and arrived at the street, fireworks exploding in thousands of vivid colors flooded the sky.

Christmas had begun.

Yoon watched them with a heavy heart. It seemed like a mocking contrast to his own universe of misfortunes.

-How could you ruin everything from one moment to the next ..? - He whispers into the sky which looked like it was dressed for a night on town.

That moment, his most precious memory decided to make an appearance.

<< It had been a Friday afternoon. Yoon came home from school, excited and anxious he had already packed his bag several days ago.

The promise of spending time with his father on a fishing trip made him feel excited.

He had never been interested in fish or water, to the point that he, in fact, couldn't swim.

But that the man he admired most in this world had made space for him in his busy schedule thrilled him. He had even promised that he would help him learn to stay afloat.

The young boy open the door to his house with a smile that showed his gums to find his father eating an improvised sandwich with cold cuts from the refrigerator.

-Yoonie! Welcome! - Said the man with a similar, gummy smile - will you join me for a sandwich before getting in the car? >>

The teen's face was illuminated by the flashes of the pyrotechnics, while he mentally shifted back to the moments spent with his father on that weekend.

-When ...? - He consulted heaven- At what point did you become a cheater?

<< They were in the boat.

The boy firmly clutched to the edge of it, leaning forward and staring at the water. He wore a lifejacket but felt as if something at his side was paralyzing him.

-Are you nervous?- The man next to him calmly asked.

-A little ...- the boy admitted while observing his pale face in the mirror-like surface. He was ashamed to admit that at the age of 13 the water petrified him. It was not a phobia per se, he was sure, but he did not like the idea of his feet not touching anything firm and solid.

-Swimming is important ..- remarked his father while his thoughtful gaze shifted between him and the lake. He seemed somewhat lost in his own memories, until his attention returned to his son's face with a smile.

-You know, that's how I met your mother. When I was a lifeguard, I saved her at a pool- he commented, caressing his son hair tenderly.

Yoon's eyes widened in surprise. He had never known how his parents met.

-You were a lifeguard? -He asked curiously

-I was. I was going to dedicate myself to that kind of life, you know? .. Traveling, going from beach to beach and finding my own path in life ..-

-Sounds interesting- he said, stepping away from the edge of the boat to sit and watch him closely.

The doctor looked at him, shrugging with a small laugh.

-It may have been interesting .. But I was running away from my own problems ..- he made himself comfortable, while putting on his lifejacket as well -I thought I had saved her, but do you know something, son? - he said in a saccharine voice- she saved me. >>

A sad smile played around Yoon's lips. That day, he had learned how to swim and how his parents first met.

He had naively fantasized that one day, he would be finding love in the same way as they. Like, a sweet story to tell his own children one day.

In the hours that followed, his father had taught him to fish. And although they couldn't get anything big to bite the hook, they lit a bonfire together and ate while looking at the stars.

The boy remained with his head raised, watching the colors dancing high in the air. He didn't know how long he had been lost in his past ... until it happened.

The explosions in the sky muffled, then slowly died away, drowned out by a slight ringing in his ears.
Yoon's features furrowed in confusion and unexpected annoyance.
He closed his eyes trying to calm himself, but the damn buzzing only seemed to get louder by the second.

The young man diminished in his place, trying not to faint from the discomfort that was now turning his stomach and tightening his muscles. He could have sworn the sound was about to destroy his eardrums. He could feel it drilling into his brain, intensifying.

He clutched his head, covering his ears even though he was aware it wouldn't work. The pain was excruciating, it felt like electricity. A wave of uncontrollable nausea hit him like a sledgehammer.

-What's going on!?!- He was sure he said it out loud, but was unable to hear his own voice. He didn't hear anything. He couldn't even open his eyelids. He felt like dying, every inhale brought more pain and he doubled up on himself.

He had to get out of here.

He wanted to move but the buzzing got louder, throwing him off balance and causing him to fall flat on the floor.

He had bruised his lip and could feel the metallic taste in his mouth, increasing his urge to vomit.

Panting and trying to reach out for help, he used all of his strength to open his eyes , but he only saw white.

A blinding white that burned his pupils.

It took his mind only a second to be convinced he was staring into the headlights of a car.

He would die here.
He was sure.
He would get killed by a car, just like his father.

He stifled a sob and bit back some tears as he surrendered to his hopeless fate, shutting his eyes tight once more.

It was at this precise moment that he felt his stomach lurch, as if he were on on a roller-coaster ride.

And the young man who writhed on the floor just a one moment ago was no longer there.

YOONGI
Date: April 18, 2016

"I died?.."

That short and simple question spun in the teenager's mind over and over again, like a broken record.

He felt dead. He was convinced that he had died.

The light. The pain. The buzz. He remembered it clearly.

So, why did he keep wondering whether he died? Is that how the end of life was supposed to feel?

Was that it? An eternity wondering about the obvious without being able to do anything more?

Would he remain burdened by his own questions?

If this was death, it sucked. This was not what he expected.

Although .. exactly what had he expected?

Do not think?..
Do not feel pain?

Pain...

His conscience slowly began to return and he could make out his limbs. Little by little did sensation and sense of being return to him.

He noticed that the pain, although less intense, was still present in every bone and in every limb. It was as if he had fallen off a ladder and all his muscles ached with resentment. His chest hurt at every inhale and exhale, as the air seemed heavy, He felt as if his ribcage was crushed against something that didn't allow him to breathe freely.

To breathe..?

He noted, then, that he was indeed still performing that action.

Was this real? Or just an echo of what once was? That led him to another thought: "Am I still alive .. but dying?"

His mind imagined a tragic picture of himself, on the sidewalk, bleeding to death after an accident.

That must be it. There were no other options. The memory of the blinding light was etched into his memory.

Should he resign himself? Should he fight?

The young teenager found himself faced with a question he would have never believed he had to ask himself at such a young age.

He wanted to cry. He realised he was already crying.

And again with a worrying delay, he became aware of his face. His wet and sticky face. He seemed to be stuck onto something and slowly sinking deeper into it.

"A cloud" he thought first. Then, being more aware of what was going on in his own head, he realised this was impossible. Reasoning with himself, he came to the conclusion he was on firm pavement.

"But it doesn't feel like it .." he admitted to himself "This doesn't feel like pavement ..".

He was utterly confused.

His brow furrowed involuntarily. He knew that he did, because he brushed his hands over his sweaty forehead.

He felt his scowl. And he got even more befuddled.

Death was that confusing? The dead frowned?

He became aware of the sour smell of vomit around him, and the acid feeling in his throat. Now that he concentrated on it, he tuned in to the fact that his resting body was surrounded by softness and...warmth.
"I am not on the street. I am not in open air.."

The certainty hit him hard, generating a sense of anxiety that shook all the way to his heart.

"So where am I?"

The feeling uncertainty finally triggered him to do what he had not dared until that moment: open his eyes and try to sit up.
The scene he found himself in froze him in his tracks. He was in his own room. Well, not his current one, but the one in their previous house, which they had moved out of a year ago. Anyway, this was not only happening in his imagination, so much was clear.

He looked from his rock band posters to the open window that blew in warm air along with rays of sun, and the pile of dirty clothes to the side.

Was that some kind of limbo?

He looked at himself: his arms were scraped and dirty from the fall, but there were no signs of an immediate a car accident anywhere.

-What the hell …?- He murmured without understanding anything at all.

He patted his legs, his torso, his arms. Everything was in its place.
He touched his face, and jolted in pain as he found his lip was bruised. He felt drenched and smelly, and noted he had vomited onto the pillow where his bruised face had rested seconds before.
He grimaced in disgust, which didn't agree with the wound in his mouth, and sat up eager to clean himself.
A strange calmness washed over him.

Maybe dying hadn't been so bad.

"If this is limbo, I will not have my sojourn smelling of vomit" he thought while looking around his old room as he walked to the door.

The guitar that his father had given him was there, perfectly new and without the stickers that he had recently attached to it. The TV rested in the corner with the playstation still connected. Magazines on the floor. One loose sock.
Min's eyes landed on a closed bag he momentarily recognized as his own. "Why is m---..?" his thoughts got interrupted by the sound of the kettle hissing in the kitchen. For an instant he froze, believing the buzzing sensation was back. Upon recognizing the sound, he breathed in relief.

The sound stopped, and the teenager went back into to alert mode, paying close attention. If the katte had stopped it could only mean….
"Who is here..?" His footsteps became a giddy trot, bound for the kitchen of his old home.

He was sure he was not alone.

-Yoongi? -His father's voice left the young one frozen in the doorway of the dining room, eyes wide open and gasping.

He was there, a slice of bread in one hand and the handle of the refrigerator in the other. Serenely. As if nothing happened. As if he wasn't dead.

-I thought you would be in school for another while .. Were you here the whole time? When did you arrive? -Inquired the man while opening the fridge to collect some cold cuts. Casually, we ventured the table - I was going to eat while I waited for you- he added with a gum-showing smile.

Yoon went from surprise to anger that had him clench his fists.
The whole situation was his own hell?
The man, completely oblivious to his son's inner turmoil, continued to assemble his sandwich while he carried on speaking.
Yoongi couldn't hear him.
A visceral hatred welled up within the boy, along with a flood of poisonous questions, one of which stood out in particular: "Is he already cheating on Mom?"

-Do you want to join me before we get into the car?- His father finally asked after his monologue, lifting his face up to look at him.

The man had not noticed fury inside the approaching teenager.

He only noticed when he was met with his son's fist that slammed into his face.

MIN JUNG-SU (Yoongi's father)
Date: April 18, 2016

-Bipolarity..? Are you sure?- His daughter asked in dismay as she cleaned one of the cuts on his face.

There was genuine concern on her face. Her expression had not diminished since she saw him entering the hospital where she was interning prior to her graduation.

Mr. Min sighed in surrender. Maybe it had not been his greatest idea to put his daughter, who had to see him in this state, under such duress. But he went there to the A&E because it was the only direction that had come to mind. Because in his shock he could not think of another place to direct the police to, who ended up intervening. He had had to seek help to get his son under control.

-That's what the specialist says …- he replied with a pained grimace. Speaking was a fucking nightmare. It hurt his whole stupid and bruised up face.

The day as he had planned it had gone to hell.

Everything had just gone to hell.

"When did that start happening right in front of my nose …?" The doctor wondered since that day's episode. Despite being the professional he was, he had never seen any sign of something being wrong with his youngest son.

-I can't understand .. He was excited about the idea ..- said his daughter in a broken whisper.

-It's not something he can control, not without the medication ..- the man closed his eyes in anguish. He did not like the idea of his son's sanity having to depend on pills, but there was nothing he could do about it- Today was going to be a great day .. And in the end we couldn't do anything as planned ..- he regretted.

At that moment, in another hospital room, Yoongi was writhing in his bed. He felt agitated while a strange sensation like electricity run through him in painful spasms.

He tried to hold onto the lake. To the fish. To the campfire. To the boat. To his parents' first meeting.

But after the initial shock, none of that was left.

Just a strange, empty hole, with fuzzy images that seemed like a dream he no longer remembered clearly.

Min Yoongi had never been able to go on that trip with his father.

The first of his mental gaps had happened.

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