the future no longer looks bright.

Everything else seems so...trivial now. The things I've been concerned about, what other people are worried about seem so stupid, so selfish. How must his friends feel? Death has never been anywhere near close to me, and I've never truly had to face it at all. The pain it brings feels so much more real. I feel so lucky, so blessed, but at the same time, so empty. I just can't stop thinking about how his family must feel, about how they must be grieving right now. It must be so hard, not knowing if they'll ever see him again, not having the knowledge that I do. I can't even imagine losing my sister.
I wish I could have known him. At least, better than I did. We were friends, not very good ones, but friends. I wish I could have talked to him more when I still had the chance. I wish that I had started up a conversation with him when I saw he was on facebook, but all my wishes have gone to waste, because now it's too late. I don't want to talk about it, yet at the same time I do. I don't want to hear about it, yet at the same time I do. My parents have tried to make me feel better, but they didn't even know him, they couldn't possibly understand. I don't know what to do to make the pain of this knowledge go away. Distracting myself only goes so far. It's just so hard to believe... I liked him a little, right when I met him at the beginning. I got over it, but it's still just so... close to home. I was looking forward to seeing him again at the camp next year, but that's clearly not happening. I wonder what he was thinking right before he died... how he was feeling. I know he's in a better place now, and I hope that he's feeling comforted, knowing that so many people here on earth care about him, even people that weren't his close friends. It's just not fair. Why did he have to go when he was so young? He was only seventeen, he had so many things left to accomplish in life. I'm so lucky to be alive, to know that I have a future, that I can have a long life. He will never know what it feels like to have a family, to find the one woman he loves more than anything else, to grow old with her, to experience life and all it has to offer. But maybe he is the lucky one in this scenario. Maybe it was his time to go, and he won't have to deal with so many of the painful things that everyone else will. He no longer has to face temptations, and now he's at peace. I can't help but think, though, that life may have its trials, but there will always be beautiful things that are there to balance them out. The wonderful things make up for the difficulties we face. Maybe Oige dying has taught me something more than I ever thought I would know: that I need to appreciate being alive, that I never know what is going to happen to me, so I have to do the things I love, and take pleasure in every moment I have in this life. I need to find joy in the journey, and I need to share my love with those around me. I need to stop thinking 'What if?' and just go for it. I need to tell the people that I care about that I love them, and I need to live life to the fullest.

Dear Oige,
Hey, let me ask you a question. How are you feeling, now? Is it true? Are you in the place that I've always heard about, dreamt about, the Spirit World? I hope you're happier now, and I hope that you don't regret anything that's happened in your life. Do you have some wicked powers, like hearing peoples' thoughts and knowing how they're feeling? If so, then you can obviously tell how many people are so sad about your moving on. Is it better up there than it is down here? I hope you have someone you care about with you. I know you probably think it's weird, me actually caring to the point of writing a letter to a person who will never get it (or maybe your magical powers are showing you this as I write it), but what can I say, I was shocked when I heard the news. I cried, a lot. Maybe we weren't the best of friends, but it's just scary, hearing that someone I knew and genuinely liked was no longer an email away. That I would never have the chance to talk to you ever again, at least, not in this life. I hope you're being taken care of up there, and I hope your family isn't feeling too lonely without you. And I especially hope it didn't hurt too much when you left your body for good. Is it peaceful? Is death something to look forward to?
I'll see you in the afterlife.
Erin

i always believed that i would die before age 20. there would be an accident of tragic means, and i wouldn't live to see two decades.
sometimes i feel like if i were to die, i would accept it. by that i mean i'm not eager to die, and i wouldn't be happy, but i would be okay with it. i would understand it if i needed to die. every time i leave on a trip, i start thinking that it's going to be the last time i see my home, and i say goodbye to everything i love. when i left on the airplane from korea back to san fransisco, i was actually surprised when it didn't crash. if it had suddenly failed in the air and had started to free fall, i wouldn't have even been surprised. when we arrived in the airport, i actually felt somewhat... disappointed. then, leaving on the airplane to go to salt lake city, i was waiting for that plane to break down, for me to be forced to have my final moments of life, to breathe my last breath, to look back on my life, and to come to a conclusion that it had been a good one.
it feels like it would be so easy to just die. so much in life is a trial, and so much is difficult. all the time i feel like i'm alone, even if i'm surrounded by friends. i'm almost feeling like the number of close friends i have is dwindling. i still have a few friends that i truly love and care about so much, but the friend that i feel like i've lost... it's almost as if i've lost a limb, or a vital organ. something that kept me whole this entire time. there were things she knew about me that no one else knew or would understand. there are things that i told her that i can't find ways to tell anyone else. even now, when something important or exciting happens to me, i feel a sudden desire to call her, or text her, or maybe just stop her when i see her so i can tell her, but in reality i know she wouldn't really care anymore. when she left, metaphorically, she took part of me with her. and maybe the friendship wasn't meant to last, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. just to think that dying would end all the pain i sometimes feel, it almost seems enticing. i would never commit suicide, but maybe dying with a feeling of acceptance and relief is actually considered suicide.
but, at the same time, there are so many things i haven't been able to do in my life. i would miss out on so much if i died this young. i would never get my first kiss (at least, one that would count), never find the one man that i would realize i'm in love with, never get married, never have children, never see those children grow, never see them have families of their own. just to think of how beautiful life can be, and how bright the future seems... that is what keeps me from giving up, from accepting death fully.

every once in awhile (and i mean very occasionally), i go overboard when it comes to practicing. most of the time i either have a satisfying practicing session, working on things that i need to, or i kind of slack off (this happens more often than the former) and get distracted, not practicing as well as i could. but, when i have the right kind of motivation, i tend to over-practice.
like, if there's a piece i really want to get perfect for a test, an audition, a performance, etc., i'll keep playing it over and over, stressing over every minor detail ('it squeaks slightly there', 'i over exaggerate that sforzando') and end up exhausting my hands, and not being able to play, period. today was one of those days. i've been playing the d minor bach suite, and recently started working on the courante. this sunday i'll be in california for a chamber music camp, and we'll be having a small, informal audition to decide what level we're at. today i decided i wanted to play the courante for that audition, and casually started practicing it so that i could have it ready by sunday. now my fingers are aching, and the song is stuck in my head. i played it on repeat for about half an hour, not really stopping to rest, and the entire piece, with the exception of about three chords, is made up of sixteenth notes.
i practiced the last two lines of the piece repeatedly, and i don't know what comes over me, but i get so frustrated. it's like i can never get it quite right, and i don't want to stop playing until i can at least get through it once without making any errors. so, since i haven't playing it for long, i got so undeniably aggravated with myself. as a child, i played the piano, and when i made mistakes, i would get angry and bite my hands, certain that if i disciplined them (because it was obviously their fault), i would be able to get it right. needless to say, my masochism achieved nothing, except for bleeding fingers. even now, i feel this inexplicable urge to cause myself pain when i make mistakes practicing the cello. i, obviously, don't, but instead keep playing until my calluses crack and bleed (whoopee). this has actually happened more than once, but mostly around federation time. i just feel so inadequate, and i want to get it perfect, to sound better than most high school cellists do. i want to succeed at something i do, because nothing else seems to be working for me.

i may be a yellow on my exterior, trying to always have fun and joke around, but i am truly a blue on the inside. while i convincingly pull off a disinterested attitude, and tend to try not to get too attached to certain friends, i really want to share all of my feelings and my thoughts with at least one really close friend, but i find it hard to trust people. some of my friends aren't really the kind of people i would share my deepest thoughts with, just because i'm afraid they would mock them (which has happened before) or judge me.

as i approach the last week of my first year of high school, i contemplate the impact this year has had on my life. i apologize for any misspellings or any grammatical errors, my space bar is broken, and i recently sprained my finger.
this school year has been one of the best of my life. i feel like i made some new, good friends, and learned from mistakes i've made, and i've just plain grown. i've learned that boys will be boys, and that they are immature. i've learned that it's useless to shed tears over one, because another one will pop up around the corner. that doesn't make the pain hurt any less, but it's a small comfort. i've learned that you can't cling on to friendships that just aren't meant to last, but you also shouldn't resort to petty, unkind words. let things be. i've learned it's hard to find friends you can really trust, and girls will always be over dramatic and a little selfish, myself not excluded. i've learned that teachers can be easily sucked up to, and it's not bad to ask for help. i've learned how much i love the cello, and how much practicing can help. i've learned that people can take sarcasm literally and can be very hurt by it. i've learned that some friends aren't worth the effort. but, most of all, i think i've learned that i need to enjoy high school while i'm here, because in two years, i'll be graduating, and i'll be released into the big world.
i'm not sure yet if i'm going to miss school this summer. i can't really tell if i'm interested in anyone, because i was for a little while, but i think i got over it. even i can't decipher my emotions. there's someone that i feel like i like, but i'm in denial because a) he's not the greatest guy in the world for me to like, b) a l0t of girls have fallen for him, aka, he's a flirt, and c) i don't want any baggage to keep me from having a fantastic summer, because chances are, i'm not going to see him till august. we've been kind of joking around with each other, but i do that with a lot of guys, so i don't know if i means anything at all. sometimes, i feel like i'm such a sap, and fall just a little bit in love wih any guy that gives me a second glance. guys are just confusing, and i don't really want to deal with any inevitable heartbreak.
i'm going to miss my friends a lot this summer. i only hang out with certain people in the summertime, usually, so there are going to be a lot of friends i won't see at all until school starts. i'm worried i won't keep in touch with anyone, and i won't have any friends once we start our junior year.
i can't write anymore because the amount of time it takes for me to write is driving me insane, and my finger is pushing too many keys. ugh.
just for memories sake, what happened to my finger is that last friday, a big group of friends and i were walking down the street to go play night games. claire and i started sprinting, and i slowed down, not realizing that anyone else was sprinting. i came to a stop, and turned my head, only to be hit in the face by zach's oncoming chest. next thing i knew, i was facedown on the ground, and my hands were being pierced by the gravel. a couple of my fingers hurt like none other, and i had a piercing headache. everyone was gathered around me asking if i was okay, asking if i was still alive, etc. "zach, i think you killed her!" hahaha. i'm pretty much okay, just sprained a finger, am a little scratched up and have a big blue bruise on my face from the impact. frankly, i just think it's funny.

Is it possible to cry over someone you don't even remember?
My hadabogi (Or grandpa in korean).
I have very few memories of him, and in all of them, he is not even the main part. The man whose lap I jumped into as I hyperly ran up and down the aisles of a plane, the figure who handed me the peeled oranges and patted my head affectionately. It's like he was just someone who was there, and I don't even remember seeing his face. Everyone in my family knows so much about him and they talk so well about him, but I have nothing to share. I know he was a great and generous man, but I don't have the memories to prove my knowledge. Why does he have to be the one thing I don't remember from that trip to Korea as a child? The few memories I do have I feel like I made up. I just miss him so much even though I don't even know him, and I wish that I had had the chance to know him. My only solace is the knowledge that someday I will meet him, and that I'll have the rest of eternity to know him. I wonder if he wishes he could know me, as well.

Often I'm a lot more sensitive about animals dying than I am about people's deaths. Maybe it's just because I've had pets die and no person that I'm close to has ever moved on, but I can't help but bawl at the simplest things that show an animal being killed or just dying. In English we watched Of Mice and Men, and I hastily attempted to hide my fat tears as the old dog was shot. We didn't even witness its death, we just heard the gunshot and saw his master's face crumple in despair, but I cried like a baby, in the middle of class. Something about the way Candy's face fell just broke something in my heart, and I wanted to just stand up and rub his back and comfort him, even if it wasn't real, because I know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to have no power over a beloved pet's death.
And without fail, each and every time I watch the video for the poem about the rainbow bridge, I choke up and cry pathetically. I think about my first hamster, the one I loved so much, the one I took care of and adored, the one I took out almost 24/7, never ceasing to annoy. Before she died, I had stopped caring. She had died alone, when I could have been with her. Maybe I'm just inconsistent, maybe I get tired of my old things and want to move on to the next new thing. And my duckies, my poor duckies... They were my babies. I treated them like children. And then we had to give them away under tragic circumstances. I still can remember the day we dropped them off at Celina's house... Leaving them in their cage as the other ducks surrounded them, and watching them quack helplessly as we walked away, their honks sounding as if they were asking "Why? What did we do?" And then a month later when I went to visit them, and they didn't even remember me, or didn't care. And then a few months later when Joe casually said "Oh, puddles and muddy? I'm pretty sure puddles is dead." then watched as I began to cry in the lunchroom, on any old school day. I just can't help but find hope in the poem, even as my current pet, my little puppy, licks my toes. I almost look forward to the day that I die and join my babies at the 'Rainbow Bridge', no matter how much that sounds like a load of crap.
Every time I watch the music video of Death Cab for Cutie, I start to sob, cause I know the scene is going to come where the one bunny dies, and the other bunny is heartbroken, so it dies with it. I'm just that pathetic. Just the idea that love can be so strong, even if it is represented in animals, that the two ones in love can die together... It seems like true love is impossible to find in this day and age. Everyone is searching for the perfect someone, but almost nobody finds them. I almost feel like if I wait to find the perfect man for me, I'll never get married. But at the same time I don't want to get married, because what if the love fades? What if he cheats on me and I'm left heartbroken and alone? I don't think I could handle that kind of heartbreak. How much ice cream and chocolate does it take to heal that kind of pain? What if it can't be healed? What if I'm the one that cheats? A story of mine says: "Was it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? The idea was debatable. If he had never fallen in love with her, he would never have had to feel the pain of not being able to have her love in return, never have had to face the rejection. But without love... he would be nothing. He never would have understood the beauty of simple things, the joy in the knowledge that there was someone that you would see the next morning that would be glad to see you too, no matter if she was glad for other reasons."

i miss korea. so so much.
this always happens: i am such a brat, and while i'm going through a really great experience, i complain and whine the entire time, because i'm ungrateful and a snot. before we left, i fought, tooth and nail, to the moment we boarded the plane. when we got there, i spent as much time as possible on the internet, finding any ways of communication with my friends back home. i actually got in several (hundred) fights with my sister about sharing the (her) lap top. now i just wish i had been more grateful, and had cherished my time there.
everything was like a dream; the hazy sky, the towering apartments, the crowds of koreans... a beautiful, three-month long dream.
every little aspect that i detested while we were there, i now love. the lingering, almost unbearable heat, the push and shove of the subway, the endless rows of clothing in the mind-numbingly large marketplaces, the compliments on how pretty i am by little old ladies sitting near me in the subway, the insane tv shows....
none of my friends really understand me when i try to talk to them about it. sure, they nod and agree when i explain how much i miss it, but i can see the disinterest in their eyes, and it encourages me to shut up. it's just difficult to put into words how i feel.
being there never really fully felt real, true, but it inspired me to write more beautifully, to appreciate my experiences more, to have more gratitude for the easier life i lead here, to practice the cello more, to enjoy the simple things that are part of life...
coming back to utah was possibly more mind-boggling than anything i participated in there. we exited the airport, the airport that i had been in dozens of times before, but everything felt different. the air was so much dryer here than i was used to back... home. yes, in the course of the three months, korea had become like home to me. i had even fallen into a routine.
9:00-wake up when mom comes into room and nags at lia and me for about an hour.
10:00- pretend like i'm getting dressed for exercise while really slacking off on internet (keep door locked for intruders, namely mom, of course).
10:30- after being yelled at for about a half hour, finally follow mom and sister out of apartment and to the recreational building, complaining the whole time.
10:35- walk briskly for twenty minutes, then proceed to 'fat-jiggler' machine.
11:40- reenter apartment, eat breakfast
12:00 P.M.- chat on computer while waiting for turn for shower
12:30 P.M.- shower and get ready, slowly
1:00 P.M.- leave apartment for the day's designated shopping/activity (usually shopping) after being yelled at some more and eating fish and rice for lunch.
6:00 P.M.- return back to apartment, use computer or read after washing 'filthy feet'.
8:00 P.M.- practice cello
9:00 P.M.- use computer to watch movies or chat (after fighting with lia)
12:00 A.M.- go to bed, try to sleep even though lia is skype-ing with her friends at home.
9:00 A.M.- start allll over again.

i was so used to this pattern that going home led to me falling into another dream like state. what if the past three months had really just been a dream? what if my overactive mind had just imagined it up? i remember this so well: as we drove back to our utah home, a rainbow peeked out through the grey clouds. i still have the picture i took.
my parents have been discussing the chance of maybe moving to korea someday. my confession? i wouldn't even be that sad. i love my friends, but i love korea, too, sacrifices or not.
i now consider it home.

Love...
It's such a peculiar thing. It comes in different forms, and comes when you least expect it.
There is love for your family, the kind that is bone-deep and came along when you were born.
There is love for your friends, the kind that you gain along with friendships, that isn't quite as permanent as the love for family, but can be just as strong, or even stronger.
Then there is love for partners (or however you would put it).
It is not stronger than the other categories of love, but it means so much more. It's almost as if it is a chemical imbalance in the heart. It leaves the heart throbbing, the stomach churning...
It is so easy to fall in love.
You could see someone on the street and feel an immediate attraction to them. You might fancy it as love, you might consider it just a crush.
You could know someone for a long time without even considering them to be anything more than a friend, or even an acquaintance, then see them one day, and suddenly feel something different. Maybe that love comes from knowing them through and through.
Maybe there are different levels of love, and maybe the love can dwindle. Maybe when you have a 'crush', you really are in love, it's just not quite as strong as your love would be for a spouse. Maybe there are soul mates, and until you've met them, you haven't even comprehended the love you can feel for another. Or maybe you just can learn to love, and the entire idea of soul mates is a load of crap. Maybe that's why divorce rates are so high--because the partners haven't truly found their soul mates. Maybe some people will never find their soul mates.
Maybe I have been in love, but not true, undying, heartbreaking love. Maybe some people fall in love too easily. Maybe some people are too full of hate to allow love in.
Maybe I'm just thinking stupid things.
Why is love so complex??