I remember when I was seven; my dad told me that everything was going to be alright… He died two weeks later in a hospital bed because of a fatal car accident. I guess he knew what was coming and maybe that’s why he said that everything was going to be okay. But everything he said was a lie, because it still isn’t okay. I was in the accident, and now I’m strapped into a wheelchair. I can’t walk and mum’s suffering. I’m suffering and the world is suffocating. I kind of don’t know what to do.

The white walls are always mocking me as I survey the hallways. I always thought that colour white was calm and serene, but I know better now. After all, behind each wall, there’s a story to be told. Just like people. You know their name, but not their story. I try not to pride myself on the fact that I’m not a judgemental prick, but I kind of am, in the sort of sense that I judge books by their cover and blurb to see if I want to read them or not.

I situate myself next to the chairs and beside a green pot plant. A stark contrast to the walls, really (sarcasm intended, though).

“Eunji, hey!” I look up and see a fair-skinned boy with a turf of black hair approaching me. I smile and wave back at him, out of common courtesy though. I’ve only met Myungsoo like… every single time I’m here in this dreaded place.

“Oh, Myungsoo…” I trail off, quite unsure of what to say.

“You here for your check-up? Oh wait, of course you are-“He ends his sentence with a chuckle and I smile a bit. He’s a bit ditsy, it’s cute.

We settle into awkward silence after that, I don’t know what else to say. I want to be uplifting and happy and cheery, but I can’t. It’s not me.

“Park Eunji!” The nurse from the front of the room declares and some people stare at me, probing into the depths of my soul.

“Oh- that’s me!” I say, loud enough for her to hear as I wheel myself towards her. She offers me a sugar coated smile, and I really can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. But if it isn’t, oh boy, she’s sure had a lot of practice.

“So, how are you?” Dr. Park inquires, tapping on one of my legs. I look down and watch him in fascination, doing his doctor-y stuff. I don’t know what to call it, really.

I snap out of my trance and nod, “I’m good.”

“Since your mum isn’t here, I don’t think if it’s appropriate for me to talk to you about some things.” Doctor Park says, dead serious. But regardless, I’m curious.

“Uh-… okay?” I trail off, I’m confused.

“But other than that, you’re free to go. I think I’ll see you in a month’s time, hm?”
 

“Uhm… okay?” I giggle a little, and dip my head in thanks. A nurse fetches me back to the waiting room and I thank her too.

In the distance, a masculine scream bounces off the walls and makes its way to my ears. I silently hope that he’s doing okay.

(People have it worse than you, Eunji.)