Usually, I would not mind the atrocious sound of my alarm going off in the morning.

But today, I did. A little too much for that matter, since I grabbed my phone and threw it against the wall. And, yeah, you might be wondering why the am I raging first thing in the morning, but waking up after a night of drinking is only something I could handle in my twenties. Not anymore.

In fact, I'm turning thirty-eight today. Yes, thirty-eight years of age. Maybe this is why I'm raging all of a sudden. Not that I care about age or anything, but because I'm thirty-eight years old and still living with my parents, in my tiny hometown, working as a teacher at the elementary school I graduated from, teaching my classmate's children. Said classmates frequently visit and bring me homemade pastries, feeling terribly sorry that I have not been married yet and that I have not popped four kids out of me by the age of twenty-two, like most of them did. Much like my very Korean mother, who, even at five in the morning, will not stop trying to find me a husband.

"Uri ttal," she sighs at the table, having just served my father breakfast, like every other day, "Onje gyolhonhalkkoni?"

Our daughter, when will you get married? She whines, like she has been doing ever since I moved back home. She looks at me dead in the eyes while she tells me to meet her friend's son, who is a doctor and a good boy, so we can get married quickly and give her some grandkids now that she is still young enough to take care of them. All the while, my father silently sips his soup, not speaking a word — like he has always done. None of them acknowledge that it is my birthday today, no seaweed soup is even made, just to keep up with the traditions my mother loves so much. Not that it matters to me, every day, for the past ten years, I have endured this loop.

And so, just like every other day, I excuse myself from the table and walk out of the house. Staying out of the house is the best part of my day. Not having to deal with my mother while working is certainly a blessing. That's why Ι stall as much as possible. Apart from taking up as many work hours as I possibly can, I also choose to walk to and back from work. Which could be considered silly, since my very Canadian hometown is mostly covered in thick snow throughout the whole year.

But, I love snow. I grew up around thick, white, and cold snow — unlike my parents, who emigrated from Jeju right before I was born, and were not used to so much snow. Actually, walking in the snow and letting my limbs freeze has been my favorite feeling ever since I was a kid, and honestly, it was the only thing I missed from my hometown when I was away.

Today, not only is my thirty-eighth birthday, but it's also been ten years since I moved back from California. It's been ten years, since I packed all of my clothes in one night, and ditched the life that I had been building in the States for years. I frequently find myself reminiscing these days, as I walk through the snow to get to work. I reminisce being eighteen and announcing to my parents that I'm going to be moving all by myself to a different country, and that I will be staying there forever, because our hometown offered nothing, for an ambitious musician like me. Everything seemed much simpler back then, and despite my parents begging me to stay, I seriously did not care about their opinions when I was younger. If I wanted to be a musician, living at the streets of Los Angeles, I would do it, no matter what. I only wish younger Jeongyeon knew that she would end up an elementary school teacher, who hurriedly fled to her parent's home one night, leaving all of her dreams unfulfilled.

Living in LA was a wild dream, a stretch to say the least. I found out, quickly enough, that it was not for me. The town, the industry, the people, the lifestyle. It just was not for me. And it hurt, realizing that my dreams were too overwhelming for me to achieve. But I stayed, all because of one girl.

Nayeon.

Im Nayeon was, what someone could call, my first love. She was an ambitious musical theater actress, that worked two jobs to support her dreams. She was very much unlike me; she loved how overwhelming a spot in Broadway was, she breathed and lived for her art, and could walk down any path that could lead her to her dream without any hesitation. Nayeon knew everybody, and everybody knew Nayeon. She was outgoing and everyone loved her; so cliché of her. Amongst everyone was, of course, me. I, too, loved her. In a 'I want to meet your parents, move in with you, and share the rest of my life with you' type of way, though. Slightly older than me, cooler than me, prettier than me, Nayeon took me when my dreams were collapsing right in front of my eyes, and guided me into a new life-style. She understood that just because I was not able to become a super famous musician, it did not mean that I was a failure, and that I could still love music while doing something else career-wise (something that my parents could never wrap their heads around).

Nayeon was my dream girl, to say the least. We dated for a long time before she started to hit it off in the industry, being into the fame-thirsty circle most of her friends belonged to. Not that she was fame-thirsty, she simply wanted to create, but the competition was getting to her. Both to her and to me. By being with her, I, too, was into this toxic environment, that I had already tried to escape once by giving up my own dream. I found myself turning into a person I was not, just to fit int, and after a certain point, it was just not working anymore. We were too young to manage and separate our lives from our careers. Her own aspirations, and my need to live a quiet life away from fame clashed. And so, fights began, and our love was clouded by a thick tension, that only grew thicker when Nayeon got her first major role in a play. The producer, Momo, came into our shared apartment, and they got drunk, started flirting and... That night, it hit me; I could not keep up with this life anymore. In only a few hours, and while Nayeon was knocked out in the arms of the producer, I packed my things and caught the first flight back to Canada. I just left. Without saying anything. Without looking back.

Of course, Nayeon did not reach out to me. Well, actually I, still to this day, do not know whether she tried to reach me or not, but I think about her every once in a while. I try to imagine myself what our life would have turned out if I was stronger and managed to stick around. I sometimes vision myself sharing a remote cabin with her in my snowy hometown, as we grow old, living a quiet life just the two of us. Though, I quickly brush those thoughts away, a life like that was never what Nayeon wanted.

Nayeon was loud and outgoing. She liked to drink and party until the morning came. She loved meeting new people, and roaming around town with no purpose.

I was more reserved and introverted. Partying was too tiring for me, and I only liked drinking in a controlled environment. I hated being forced into unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people, or when everything was in the air without any plans.

Nayeon was ambitious and driven by her passion. She would not stop until she chased down every opportunity possible, and would never rest, knowing there were so many things out there that she could utilize to achieve her goals.

I was scared and burnt out. I gave up my passion, witnessing my world crumble down when I realized it was not meant to be, and curled up into a ball. I was in defense all the time, trying to shield myself from the world.

Nayeon loved the sun. Her skin was tanned from the many hours she spent at the beach, partying or lounging. She liked the feeling of the sun beams soaking her skin, and enjoyed dressing up lightly when the weather was hot, in a way that complimented her sculptured body.

I loved the snow. I grew up surrounded by it and was most comfortable in cold climates. The hot weather of California, turned out to be the worst thing I had to endure throughout my stay in the states. I preferred skiing and building snowmen, making snow angels, and cuddling into thick blankets, or wearing four pairs of socks when the weather got too cold.

We were just... too different.

Nayeon hated the snow. Every time I brought up visiting my parents in Canada, she would go on and on about how cold weather did not suit her, and how she could not handle it. She could not comprehend my need for a quieter life, or companionship. She was used to chasing after her passion, and it was the only thing that she truly loved. It was her only priority and everything else, me included, came second.

I hated the heat. Every time she would propose we go swimming, or attend a beach party as a couple, I would go on and on about how easily I get sunburned because of my pale skin, or bring up that time I got a terrible sun . I could not comprehend her need to be outgoing, and how that was a tool that would drive her to success. I was so hurt by my own unfulfilled dreams, that I could not support and truly understand her burning need to reach her goals.

Nayeon could not see the beauty of a simple life, or why would I possibly want that. She refused to acknowledge the beauty of my hometown and the love I had for it, and never wanted to visit. She did not want to see the snowy mountains, and the small houses scattered around, the school I went to when I was little, and the park right across of it, where I first learned how to walk. Said park, was full of happy families, like the one I'm watching as I'm walking past right now; two women, and their small kid. Holding him by the hands, they help him walk up the slide, and laugh when he struggles and whines. Nayeon could never understand such moments could feel someone's heart up, or why would I ever want children.

"I won't ever be a mother," she had once stated. "It'll just hold me back."

Nayeon hated the snow. It was too cold for her to hold, and made her velvety hands sting. Unlike that woman, whose laugh sounds so much like hers, who is happily playing with her toddler in the snow. 

And I, hated the heat. The sweat I produced on a hot day almost drowned me. That's why I rushed back to my hometown, brushed the shame of moving back with my parents off, and lived the quiet life I had been craving. Despite living a loop, moments like these; witnessing a happy family in our small, cold, and snowy town, are enough to keep me fuffilled. The happy toddler playing in the snow and his mothers are a blast to watch. But clearly, me standing there is enought to alert one of the two mothers, that turns to look into my eyes.

Nayeon hated the snow, she rejected it. She said her body was made of fire, and even her eyes had fire etched into them. And it was true, apart from their warm hue, her left eye had a small birthmark, a nevus, that sligtly resembled a tiny flame.

And those eyes of the mother, they radiated heat. Looking into them had the tempurature of my body rising.

I hated the heat, I rejected it. My body was made of snow, my hands and feet were always cold, and the color of my eyes resembled the snowy mountains of the artic.

They melted easily when locked with Nayeon's, because of how different we were. Just like now, as I looked into that mother's eyes.

"Yoo Jeongyeon?" a familiar voice called out.

Nayeon is like summer; explosive, and hot. Too much too handle. Her presence is imposing, and her attidute firey. Talking to her makes you sweat just as much as when you would during a heatwave. Nothing will make her budge, just like when the fan at it's highest setting will not do much during an especially hot evening.

"Im Nayeon?" my own weak voice replied back.

And I'm like winter; dull and cold. Annoying and avoidable as long as you do not come out of your house. Being around me leaves you with a chilly sensation travelling through your bones from how bad at socializing I am.

"It's been so long." she said in a shaky voice that I could barely hear.

Nayeon is like fire; bright and hot. She is loving and beautiful, talented and sweet. A perfect partner and a perfect artist. Ambitious and intense, someone who is ready to fight for everything she has set her mind to, like a wild forest fire, unlikely to be put out.

"Your son is adorable." I replied. I always knew she would make a great mother.

And I'm like snow; soft and cold. I'm was not strong enough to stand by Nayeon's side and help her reach her goals, just like she helped me change paths after I gave up on my dreams. I'm soft, easily molded into a fleeting coward, who leaves the love of her life behind, and now watches her as she builds a family with Momo the producer, the person who truly helped her kickstart her career. I'm unreachable, like closed off roads on a school morning after a night of unstopable snowstorm, I never allowed anyone to trully approach me. The real me.

Nayeon is like summer; the tears that fall from her eyes as she watches me walk away are like the random and very rare rainstorms in the middle of a week-long heatwave.

And I'm like winter; my cold stare softens when meeting yours, revealing all of my unsaid words from years ago, like a slowly melting pile of snow that's blocking a driveway.

But you hate winter.

And I'm already melted.