32° // UISEONG
JUNG
UISEONG
정의성
︿
my name is jung uiseong.
written with these three characters: 정의성.
writing this is beginning to feel kind of stupid, but doctor ha insisted that a journal was a good way to release some emotions. a cartharsis, of sorts. i guess i'll start with some basics. if anyone finds this, it'll be useful. oh, and you'll probably be in for a world of... ed. ha. i suppose you should stop reading after reading my details if you don't like... death.
NAME: JUNG UISEONG
AGE: 23 // D.O.B: MAY 5TH
MOBILE: XXX-XXX-XXX
FACECLAIM: model 장성훈
AGE: 23 // D.O.B: MAY 5TH
MOBILE: XXX-XXX-XXX
FACECLAIM: model 장성훈
an intangible fascination with the human form: may it be living or dead, the processes that occur within and its many abnormalities. the human body is always surprising us. sure, things can be predicted; say, if oxygen cannot reach the brain, you may assume cardiac arrest in the next few moments. but things come along that whip us a for a new one — something that evokes the —
'this isn't supposed to happen,'
'what is happening?'
'what do we do now?'
— response. panic.
and it sounds a little morbid, i guess it is.
but it is these anomalies that drew me into the medical field in the beginning. the anatomy. physiology. every mechanism.
death. or, well, preventing it.
wracking your brain for the solution to the oddity, and doing whatever it is to preserve life. it's fascinating. the advances we've made to do so.
the ways to tamper with human flesh — simply a jolt of eletric can revive.
the ways to tamper with human flesh — simply a jolt of eletric can revive.
mom had always told me i was a curious soul. digging up worms in the wet soil of our backyard and keeping them in her nice tupperware containers; she'd yell at me for dirtying them up. i'd walk in the house with mud-decorated boots, and she'd yell again. but it was only me and mom, dad's never been in the picture. so she'd sit me down and we'd grab an old toothbrush and scrub until they were clean again.
growing up, we were poor.
public schools. dirty clothing. canned tuna for dinner.
i went to our local high school, and most would assume to go to our local college, too. mom said she'd be proud with whatever route i took.
mom always tried her hardest, she worked at a grocery store seven days a week, only to earn an inadequate amount of money.
but it kept us afloat. somehow.
i've never been good with words.
i didn't have many friends either.
i wasn't unpopular... i think, but, well, to be invited out for ramyun after class wasn't something i ever got to partake in. we'd play soccer together though, me and some of the boys from high school.
not having friends didn't bother me too much.
i liked alone time.
i studied a lot. i passed the entrance exam. went to medical school. and now we've arrived to present day, except, i also skipped the fact that i now live alone and i don't see mom much anymore. but i guess that's a story for another time. it's not a big deal. promise.
i might've skipped over other big thing, too, but it feels somewhat futile to tell. i met a girl in the first semester of medical school. arai sumire. a transfer student from tokyo. and to think anyone would ever want to speak to me, is beyond comprehension; especially someone like mire, who's so bright, so god-damned effervescent and loud.
so, so popular. gorgeous.
we dated.
for a bit.
four years.
give or take.
four years.
give or take.
she died.
4 months ago.
we broke up before that, though. a week prior.
as much as i knew about the human body, there was something even science could not fathom, and it was heartbreak.
people tell me i'm a stoic character.
i've never been able to express emotions well.
i can't even tell you the last time i cried. but heartbreak dished me some sort of pain that was so inconceivably terrible, that i told myself i'd never want to experience it ever again. maybe it was that, intertwined with her death, that really did it for me. maybe it's because that one week after breaking up was supposed to be that — a one week break. no reconciliation.
no goodbyes. a weight, that burrows down, hard.
how could i leave it like that?
how could i leave it like that?
'bottling up emotions is no good.'
you think?
i couldn't work. i'm in my first year of residency and i couldn't function.
i exploded. yelled at patients. threw things. couldn't breathe.
broke—completely—down.
i guess i'm still recovering.
i've returned to my residency for a month now.
when i told people i was going to medical school, they always told me that i had the personality for it. you know? stoic. cold. they were basically saying that i was the sort of person that'd be okay with death. seeing it.
as long as i got to examine the body and witness it's gears at work, to manipulate abnormalities into proper functioning units again. i thought i was. and maybe i would've been. but all i can imagine is death haunting me. blood covered hands, the warmth of it still seeping through, yet, the cold, dry death right before me. i can't breathe. i freeze.
the fascination, it's... it's overriden by fear.
and now i don't know if i miss sumire, or if i resent her.
for ruining my heart, and my mind.
and my career by extension.
but what am i supposed to do now?
this is surely a phase.
people get over these things, you know? it takes time, but things, it... it needs to be conquered. i promised mom i would become a doctor. support her.
she deserves it.
she deserves it.
am i supposed to give up?
the fear can't eat me alive.
i can't let it do so.
please help me, sumire.
tell me it's okay.
i'm sorry.
is it okay if i let go?
core traits: stoic. private. (recently) emotionally volatile. taciturn. curious. headstrong. regretful. intelligent. tenacious. withdrawn. modest. cordial when he needs to be. a bit brash. currently in a state of turmoil and confusion. the kind of guy who won't make conversation with anyone, and one-word replies everything, but means well. just can't express himself for . sometimes his words come off a little harsh but they're always in good heart. pretty self-kept.
greatest goal: becoming a trauma surgeon.
as of current, greatest fear: death. *(his fascination with the human body and death has been soured by the death of his girlfriend, instead of the initial enthrallment he had for death, it's cloaked by this fear of killing off a life, it's not particularly scientific or medical anymore, but emotional.)
growth: if at best, i'd like to see him suffer but see uiseong get over his fear (let go of his dead girlfriend)
i think, for him, if he can let go, it would overall help with his fear of death, and that he needs to get past the emotional part to save lives.
or idk just to see him be a nicer guy. more open. stop bottling up. people are there for u dude
i think, for him, if he can let go, it would overall help with his fear of death, and that he needs to get past the emotional part to save lives.
or idk just to see him be a nicer guy. more open. stop bottling up. people are there for u dude
trope: stoic guy trope actually heart of gold can't say no
or! i'm a sappy so the: 'i didn't think i could fall in love again but then u came along' trope lmfao
inspo: waste by brockhampton, hey, did i do you wrong? by san cisco, too soon by snakadaktal, all the medical dramas i've been watching lmfao
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