cy·no·sure

A person or thing that is the center of attention or admiration.

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I always thought that I could trust you.

I guess I was proven wrong today. I just wish that I didn’t need to be told otherwise. I still remember when I was the age of six one day; my world was no longer how I knew it. I first realized it only when I was in school, when one of the teachers was asking me to name the shade of the chalk colour she held up. They were two. She happened to be teaching about colours that day. I was usually one of the best at it, since I have always adored making art and exploring new shades were my favourite. However, as I stood up to answer, I had become aware that I wasn’t sure. Things were looking strange that day. I was nervous for once. I felt idiotic.

“E-erm, blue and red?” I answered with evident stuttering, ashamed for my incompetency. The teacher then shook her head, giving me a sorry smile.

“That’s incorrect, Kyung Mi,” she had mentioned kindly. “Do try again?” I tried a few more terms, honestly. Yellow, white, green — they were all incorrect. I was beginning to feel so horribly, horribly afraid. Being a child of six, I wanted to cry because of the weird thing that was happening to me. Why couldn’t I differentiate the colours today? My classmates were starting to laugh at me, because it was task so simple that I could not accomplish. The teacher finally opened to speak of something, maybe to tell me that it’s alright if I can’t respond accurately, but then I ran. I took my school bag and ran out of the kindergarten centre. I was maddened with sadness. The clouds decided to throw a light drizzle that day as I continued on my two little feet.

I was upset. Until today, I’m still not sure as to where I intended to go. All I knew was that being in that bright classroom hurt and the flowers I used to love no longer seemed to radiate wondrously. Back then, I didn’t have a wristwatch but I was sure that I left the place far too early. Maybe some of the staff members wanted to stop me, but I can’t remember. There’s a lot that I’ve lost that day. However, it would impossible to deny what I gained that very day as well. As my feet grew heavy due to weariness, I drew to a short halt by an unfamiliar playground. I decided to make my way towards the swings to take a seat when I heard footsteps that weren’t mine. I spun around, terrified. It was only then and there did I realize that I was a child who actually ended up lost due to rash actions.

I still remember the day we first met, Gongchan Shik. It was you who came up that beaten path that morning with that forlorn expression. Even so, you placed a friendly smile as you spoke to one like me.

“Hey, are you alright?” was what you asked softly, bending a little to talk to the short me. You still tower over me until today, really. I was a kid who was crying because I was frightened about the drastic change that happened to me.

“I’m not,” I had uttered, shaking my head furiously. “I can’t be.” You paused then, being the seven year old you were in that dark collared attire. You blinked thoughtfully.

“Are you… lost?” you had guessed. “I can help to bring you back if you tell me the name of your kindergarten.” I stared at you with wide eyes back then. My parents told me to never speak with strangers, but maybe I had forgotten because you were merely a year older.

“It’s not about that,” I had replied a little crossly. Fine, perhaps extremely crossly. But I know you were only trying to help. You even gave me a tissue to dry my eyes even though it was drizzling. My eyes then couldn’t help but to observe his hair curiously.

“Your hair…” I asked suddenly. “It’s black, isn’t it?” At first you were taken aback at such a remark, but then you smiled quaintly and agreed to it. I was ecstatic. At least, at the very least, I could tell when something was completely black. Maybe all was not lost just yet. Finally, you laughed at me for reacting in such a manner.

“You’re a funny one,” you had chuckled lightly. “What’s your name?”

“Han Kyung Mi!” I replied with an overwhelming amount of glee, mostly due to my childish triumph. “And you?” I can still picture the way your eyes crinkled when you told me willingly.

“Gongchan. It’s Gongchan Shik. It’s nice to meet you, Kyung Mi.”

Later, he had helped me return to the kindergarten safely. He must have been a smart seven year old, when I think of it. No, he’s still smart. He was bidding me farewell when I called out to him once more. “Gongchan Shik!” I had yelled. He had winced at my loudness, but answered to the call with a blank expression. I had asked him back then as to which school he was attending, and he actually told me. We didn’t have much contact afterwards due to our different lifestyles. And so when I enrolled in the school the following year in which I turned seven, my goal was to find him there. I found him eating some sort of melon bread during recess. I was so glad to find him that I couldn’t find my voice at first. I was even afraid to approach him because of the guys he was with. Plus, my slightly altered look. Luckily, he had seen me first, the baked food dropping out of his grasp when he stared. That kind of thing made the rest of his buddies stare at me too, making me feel awkward.

“Gongchan… Shik?” I had mumbled pathetically due to peer pressure, wearing an embarrassed smile. He promptly proceeded to mouth out three syllables, ones that matched my full name. With that, I smiled brightly at his remembrance and everything fell in place afterwards. I never actually knew that we could form a strong friendship because of age and gender, but it made me really happy. I no longer felt strange for being the odd seven year old with tinted spectacles.

When I asked my parents back then when I was six about my strange colour observations, they immediately took me to a specialist. I didn’t get what the whole ordeal was about but I knew it was worrisome. Of course I did, actually! I was the one who cried about it in the first place. Apparently, the doctors mentioned that I was having achromatopsia, a condition in which I could only see things in black or white. I was baffled. How was it that I could see in colours before then? It was even said to be rare, this monochromatic vision thing and so it was a rather complex subject. It was something to do with the lack of cones in my eyes or something — a subject that I found weird because I thought cones were just those pointed things — and due to this newly discovered trait about me, I was prone to be sensitive to normal lighting conditions. So it was then and there in which I began wearing these kinds of specially-made spectacles. I didn’t feel too bad, actually, and I got used to this bland world until an incident during the age of nine that tortured me.

Everyone in my class had to decide as to who they wanted to be when they grew up and provide the reason behind it. For me, it was simple. I wanted to be an artist since forever. And so when it came to my turn, I was quite passionate about it even though I was only at a tender age.

“The name’s Han Kyung Mi!” I had introduced tersely back then in front of class. “My ambition’s to be a great artist because I’ve always loved painting!” I paused, for I was just too excited, too geared up to share. However, it appeared that some of my classmates disagreed to it.

“An artist?” scorned one of them. “Don’t you need to be good at colours for that sort of thing?” Another had agreed, adding their comment.

“Yea,” asserted that classmate. “Wouldn’t you need to be, Kyung Mi? And you can’t even differentiate candy colours!” A few more unkind comments were thrown, and the teacher reprimanded them for crushing my heartfelt dream.

Nevertheless, it was already too late. My frail heart was already affected by their unkind words which were comparable to the time when I first found out about my unique condition. It reminded me of the time when everyone laughed at my inability to tell two colours apart. Gongchan Shik, kind as ever, was waiting for me after school to ask about my day.

“How was your day today?” he had asked nicely. “I heard your class had to mention about their ambitions, right?” I must confess now that I should have treated him better for it was not his fault. But I was angry, I was dismayed. And so I snapped at my older best friend to whom respect was due.

“It was horrible!” I half-yelled at him, my fists balling up in anger. “I said I want to be an artist, but they say that I couldn’t, that I would never. Just because of my condition that gives me a world full of monochromatic kind of idiocy…” I believe I punched him on the shoulder.

Then I cried. I have always been a weakling, I guess. He tried to comfort me, I know he did. However, I only kept pummelling him until I was tired of it all.

“Will I ever be an artist now?” I finally asked with my tear-stained face. I was actually glad for my tinted spectacles. At least I can’t appear that useless, right? Then he did such a crafty trick. He took out my spectacles to wipe a tear of mine before speaking softly, so barely that I nearly missed it.

“Let me promise you something,” the ten year old had mentioned. “Han Kyung Mi, I never knew what I wanted to be until now.” I stared at him painfully back then without the use of my darkened lens since he was holding it. He placed them back on for me gently before whispering one last bit.

“I’m going to be a doctor for you.”

That day was eventful. It was and is definitely one of my most significant memories. Ever since that day, he asked permission from my parents to come over to help me paint things all the time. It was due to the fact that he couldn’t exactly be a doctor just yet, and so instead he assisted by giving me the right colour. He described things in painstaking detail so that I was able to picture it with my former memory of colours, ones that used to surface easily without imagination. Be it the scenery or some abstract art, he would help me every time. Once, when I was eleven — which would mean that he was twelve — we took a break and I took him to a nearby field which eventually became our getaway location. I stared at the lazy clouds that rolled by as I lay down on the soft grass before turning to him. I could only blink at him behind my spectacles because he had actually been looking at me.

“Gongchan…” I lamely uttered, since that was redundant because I didn’t even need to call him. A small smile enraptured his boyish features. He made a sound of approval before I continued. I stared at him back then, with eyes then widened in captivating realization back then.

“You paint my dark skies grey,” I, the eleven year old girl, had finally whispered. I still remember how he, well, you, had looked back then. Your face softened into such a wistful expression and your eyes still crinkled ever so magnificently.

“And that, must be the most wondrous thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you finally replied, before giving me a smile so bright that I’ve never ever seen it again. We stared for a little longer in this newfound silence and acceptance before he turned to look at the sky. And I did so too, finding that day to be just a little more colourful with such a friend like you by my side. Maybe, just maybe, I actually liked me for being just me for the first time in a long while.