Because I'm not even breaking.
But..
never mind.
I am summer-less, memory-less, love-less. I'm not this terrible at remembering things because that's how I am. I forced myself to be. Heartbreak after heartbreak, phone call after phone call, grade after grade, season after season.. there's too little of it that I want to keep with me. I hate the sting that comes back every time I hear those lyrics. I'd rather go back to the day the sand underneath my dirty nails had a strangely wonderful kind of a magic that complemented the day, and I sat at home watching Titanic recalling my worry over an insignificant, but such a dear, goldfish. I've torn my heart, piece by piece, and left it with the summers that brought me love, family vacations that ventured upon double-deck buses and bland spaghetti. I don't recall why I've stopped reading Page Three of the Washington Post only to throw away the rest of it. I don't recall how I became this way.. so boring, so plain. So normal. I had once cherished those days that I spent steaming up the windows on Christmas Eve to leave a note for Santa and walked without the slightest sense of direction, or fear, for that matter. Just adventure. Exploring what more there was to my neighborhood, and discovering the secret paths. Looking on at the old man with the white bushy dog, who walked by the same place at the same time, every day. But now, I'm just Suyeon, with a hint of sarcasm. I have nothing interesting to offer. I can't quite distinguish who my first kiss was, and I don't have a story to tell about who my first love was.. because I can't tell. I know nothing about myself. What's a storyteller without stories? I wished upon countless dandelions. I've danced in the fields of Austria, picked pretty weeds, and eaten bugs. But.. I have no more. I've somehow become the last piece of myself.
When I grow up, I want to collect all of these pieces, one by one. Even if that means losing the last piece of myself that I've saved for such a long time.
