I sit on a bench under the willow tree where my sister’s and mother’s graves lay side by side. The skies are grey today, the wind cold. My eyes sweep across the two graves adorned with pretty flowers now that I’ve come to visit and are rid of the old, wilted ones from the last time I was here.

My father, the person who took this loss the hardest, hasn’t visited in a long, long time. I’d like to give him some credit and think that the reason of him not visiting anymore is because he hasn’t moved on and is still in as much pain as I am but I know the most probable reason is because he’s too busy being a business man and a husband to another wife.

Yes, my father remarried a few years after my mom died. I don’t hate Auntie Hyorin. She’s the next best thing to my actual mother but there really are times when I feel as though I am a drag to the two of them and that they’re really just waiting for me to join my mom and sister, waiting for my disease to just kill me so they can start anew.

At times, I think it’s unfair and utterly mean but it’s inevitable. Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy… That’s what my mother had. It’s an inherited disease so that’s what my sister had too and now, it’s what I have. From what I remember my doctor saying, the walls of my heart are too thick. It becomes stiff and therefore makes it hard for it to pump blood.

I can’t do things that would make my heart beat faster than normal. I can’t run or do any sports. I can’t be too sad. I can’t be too scared or nervous. I can’t be too happy. I can’t get hurt. I probably can’t love either as we all know what crazy emotions it can evoke. In other words, I can’t be human.

It’s sad, this situation of mine. I feel as though I was born not to live but to just survive and maybe live longer than originally determined. It’s like I can only get a taste of what life is before the heavens take me away.

There is a sudden strike of lighting flashing against the dark clouds and then a loud clap of thunder. I snap out of my thoughts, eyes lifting up to see a new flash of lightning. I don’t jump or even flinch at the sound of thunder that followed.

I don’t get scared or the least bit shocked. I’ve long learned to numb myself anyway, to be closed off and stoic because really, how else would I survive? One slip, one tiny crack and all the emotions I’m not supposed to be feeling will come flooding through and kill me.

I ignore the tiny droplets now starting to fall from the sky and look down at the two graves again. There is a space next to my mother’s grave and I stare at that very spot. It’s meant for me. I’m not even assuming it since my father told me the exact same thing right after my sister died. He has my funeral expenses all set. All my medical expenses too and any other options he can think of.

“We’ll try our best, okay Ha Eun? You try your very best to live but if you can’t take it anymore, don’t force yourself and just let go… okay?” he had told me once. I was only fourteen then. My sister just died and I just got diagnosed with same disease. I didn’t know what to think of or even feel at that moment. The world felt like it was on a standstill, like I am the only person left and I, myself, am empty.

My father… the only family I had left, was basically telling me to just give up and die if “I can’t take it anymore.” As I blinked, the world no longer at a stop, the hospital noise loud in my ears, I felt something warm run down my cheek. I was crying. There was panic in my father’s eyes, his hold on my shoulder’s tightening ever so slightly at the sight. I was hurt. I was so, so hurt.

All this time, when I was growing up and suddenly couldn’t breathe if I ran too fast or played for too long, we had thought it was asthma. My mother, I had only known the woman for ten years of my life and she was suddenly gone. She didn’t even say goodbye to me. I didn’t even know what was wrong with her because my father said I couldn’t understand.

And then there was my sister, she thought too that it was only asthma but knowing that my mother’s disease was hereditary, my father had her checked and she apparently had the same disease. But it was already too late anyway because one heartbreak from a stupid boy made her suffer a heart attack and she never survived through it.

At that moment, at age fourteen, out in the waiting area of the busy hospital, it was my turn. The oxygen in my body wore thin. Every time I tried to breathe, there was a sharp, piercing pain stabbing at my chest. It was so painful. My chest felt way too tight and the discomfort of it was simply unbearable.

I didn’t even notice then that my legs gave way and I was leaning on my father, my tear streaked face scrunching up at the pain and my hand clutching and grabbing at my chest as if I wanted to just rip my heart out to ease the pain. My breathing was getting too short and I was light headed. The last I heard is my father’s frantic scream for help, then I out.

I clench my jaw tightly, already feeling a slight pinch in my chest at the painful memory of my first ever attack. I am already wet since the rain so suddenly poured in the middle of my little reverie but I merely stand up from the soaked bench.

I took a deep breath to calm myself down and control the pinch in my chest. I rid myself of the pain this way, my expression blank and my numbness back. Tentatively, I lift my hand up to wave at my mother and sister. I pull my already wet hood up and push some of my hair out of my face before turning around.

I don’t say goodbye to them. I never do. They had never said it to me before they left for good anyway. I don’t like goodbyes nor do I ever say it anymore. They have always been the hardest thing for me. They aren’t certain and they hurt, they make you scared, they make you sad.

You just don’t know if you will ever see this person again after your goodbye. You will never know if that one time you missed a chance of saying it would leave you in regret because that person is suddenly gone. And… what if you, yourself, don’t get to say goodbye before you leave? Before you die and the person you left behind is broken and hurt because of it?

I really don’t like it. I despise goodbyes.

I am back home from my visit to my mother’s and sister’s grave, dripping wet and already leaving a dark trail on the carpet behind me. Auntie Hyorin is in the living room, working on something on her laptop when she looks up and frowns at my drenched figure. I expect her to scold me for ruining the carpet and being out in the rain but all she does is sigh.

She gets up from the couch wordlessly while I peel some of my wet layers off. She leaves for a quick while then comes back with a towel. I am shivering, only left with just my inner sleeveless shirt when she handed me the towel. I bow my head lightly in a form of thanks and she nods just as I wrap it around myself.

“Where’s your bag? It’s wet too, isn’t it?” I bite my lip and nod. She frowns even more. “All the contents are wet too, I bet but it’s fine. I won’t need them in uni anyway.” I flash her a small smile, probably the only one I can muster these days, and bow my head again before heading up to my room.

I was actually at school today, picking up the rest of my belongings and helping clear out our classroom before I went to visit my mom and sister. This day officially marks my last day of being a high school student and while my classmates were all being dramatic over transitioning to college, planning to meet each other still or even go to the same university and whatnot, I was sitting on my desk by the window, just staring at the clouds.

I changed a lot after knowing I had a heart disease. I detached myse