I cannot remember exactly what she said to me in the past, but whatever it may have been, it engraved itself on the walls of my heart. As her thin lips pursed themselves – forming a perfect circle –the big brown pools that settled in her eyes clung to mine. She was a short girl, and her milky skin was everything that I had ever pleaded for. I craved her sensitivity, her walk, her passion, and – most of all – her. She had blonde hair, and it waved down her back until it reached mid-way. Many times I have stuck my hand out in attempt to touch the blonde locks that called for me, but she would move my hand away in protest.

“What do you want to be after we finish school?” I asked her, picking at the grass beneath us. I stared out into the courtyard, examining everything from the singing birds to the sound of the buzzing bees.

She looked up at me, her blonde locks falling to one side of her shoulder. “I already told you that.” Her voice was soft, almost like the new linen that clung to the wide beds on Sunday mornings. It was another thing of hers that I craved.

Out of instinct, my arm reached out to touch her hair, but she pushed it away, giving me that tiny laugh of hers that reverberated from my ears, echoing throughout the schoolyard. “Seriously. I really want to know this time.”

“You never really listen to me, though.”

“Who says so?” My voice was defensive, but soft all at once. It was a habit of mine – to get offended easily. She found it funny. She even told me once. She enjoyed how jealous I got, and she enjoyed the defensive side of me. She said that it made me the great friend that I was today.

I no longer wanted to be categorized as a friend. I wanted to be more. I craved to be more. But some people just do not get the benefit of the doubt. I’m referring to myself here.

She fell back into the flower buds around us, laughing that sweet, grand laugh of hers. “I say so, Miyoung.”

Putting everything aside, I grabbed my purse from beside myself, gripping the book that rested on my lap. I brought myself to my feet, taking in a breath of air. I could not stand to be around something that I craved so much, but also something that I could never have. Her way of thinking was far too complex for me. Such a simple person mixed with such a complex person was not a good combination. At least, to me it was not.  

“I want to be a psychiatrist.” She sat up as I started to walk away, pulling a few pieces of grass up, curling them into her small hands. “Miyoung, I want to be a psychiatrist.”

On one foot, I turned around to face her. I pressed my lips together, kneeling down in front of her again. “Really?” My head cocked to the side as she lifted her hand, setting it onto my shoulder. My purse slid onto the ground beside me again, and I sat flat, crossing my legs.

She gave me a look, almost as if confirming my suspicions. 

After that day, I thought to myself every night. Why would she do something like that to me? Every night, I received different answers from myself and my surroundings. I never thought that a scenario like this would become reality.

Now that I think about it, she started to manifest those symptoms. Every night, I came up with different possibilities, different sources – and most of all – different ratios. I started keeping track of a journal. It was merely supposed to be for the sake of my physics notes, but in some way, my research was similar to that of physics. Was it not?

In a way, she showcased Newton’s first law – The law of Inertia. I read off my research aloud. Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it. Whenever she spoke, she was passionate, and would keep going until she was nearly out of breath. She was at her happiest then. If someone came along and interrupted her, she would stop completely and go away. In some way, did this not showcase Newton’s second law of motion -The law of acceleration?

Every night, I would fill the pages with notes, wiping my mouth whenever a drop of drool landed in the margins. I was becoming withdrawn from the outside world, but I would be completely okay with it.

I would not say that I was completely withdrawn, because I did go out at the same time every day, just to visit the same spot that I would read my research off.

That day, the sun shined through my tented glasses as my jacket flew back with the wind. I loved days like this, and so did she. It’s too bad that she could not experience it with me. I stopped in front of a familiar place, setting the journal down on top of the large stone. I set down a bouquet of flowers – baby’s breath - and crossed my arms across my chest.

“I finished my research.” I smiled down at the grave stone, chuckling to myself as I sat down before it, intertwining my fingers with one another. “I told you, Kim Taeyeon. Schizophrenia is not a split personality disorder. You’re such a silly girl.” 

A plot twist? Tell me what you think of it.

For those who are lost with the ending, Taeyeon passed away, and since she wanted to become a psychiatrist, Tiffany did the research for her.^^

-Your Author-