Now that I think back to the past, I realize the immatureness of the situation, my vulnerability and my naivety into falling for something that wasn’t even real. How stupid, how plain dumb of my part. But how was I to know, how was my inexperienced heart supposed to detect the signs of warning when it was all over the place trying to make sense of the new emotions that had jumped through its walls? 

Everything had been sad. Everything had been blue. 

Days and days of moping around the house trying to make sense of the world, days of just lying there in bed not doing anything else and ignoring my mom’s calls because I just couldn’t get myself to put a foot out of bed. The effort was just too much for me. Lonely nights spent trying to understand what went wrong, trying to think back to the times where I had been happy, filled with hope, with that beautiful feeling of falling when you’re unsure whether you want to go over the edge of a cliff or whether you’d like a safety strap attached to yourself. 

It was clear that I hadn’t chosen the latter. I’d decided to jump off like the stupid person I am, not even looking back at the warning signs that Taehyung had given me. I had trusted my foolish heart instead of his reasoning. 

I should’ve known better. 

But I never would’ve been able to move on if it weren’t for Taehyung. 

Taehyung had helped me overcome this obstacle by grabbing my shoulders and shaking me senselessly until I realized what I was missing in life. He had grasped my arm and pulled me to events when I didn’t feel like waking up, had supported me through the nights when I felt like I was not enough to be loved, and would never be enough. I had lost count of the times he’d been my shoulder to cry on when I was reminded of something that reminded me of him. He made sure that I wouldn’t do anything stupid, made sure that I was safe and sound whenever I got too drunk and started emotionally rambling about my regrets, about the lost chances, about Jimin being a big fat jerk to begin with. I think he sympathized with my pain and it was probably because he’d seen everything happen before his very eyes. 

After all, he was the bystander, and maybe he felt a sense of responsibility for I had asked him for help first. 

But nevertheless, I had never been so grateful to someone in my life. 

I could easily say that Taehyung was my savior. Taehyung was my pillar when I was crumbling to pieces. He was everything he needed to be when I was at my lowest, and although it sounds banal now, the things that happened to me — it happens to everyone at least once in their lives. You’ll never forget the pain of your first love— he’d taken it upon his shoulders that this was something he just had to do not because he had to clean up his best friend’s mess, but simply because he cared. 

The high school days passed by in the blink of an eye and soon enough we had all split up to go to different universities. Two years have passed since then. Everything’s completely different now. Everyone went their separate ways, some abroad, some moving to different parts of the city to pursue the career of their dreams. I moved to Canada since then, deciding that it would be much better for me to start afresh, and I could not contain my excitement when Taehyung had declared that he was coming to Canada as well for his vet studies. Aejung on the other hand, had followed Jimin to the United States and although I never really asked her what had happened to their relationship — they had never been official, just an on and off thing and that had made me snort with disgust, glad that I never got to experience such a thing— I knew for a fact that this girl was fully in love with him. She could do anything for his attention, just for a mere glimpse of his smile. I guess Jimin liked that, for they’ve been going around in circles for more than years now. I always asked Taehyung why he was even best friends with the guy, to which he’d replied something along the lines that Jimin was not what he seemed even when he could appear like a . Up to this day I never really got to see the other facade of his personality and to me he was still a big fat jerk no matter what. Not that I was interested in knowing how he was redeeming himself for his past mistakes now. 

Two years later, I’m sitting at my kitchen table catching up with all the updates of my old school friends. I’m back for the summer break and my university experience has been great so far. My mother’s gentle humming and  the sound of my father turning pages really makes it feel like home. I missed the sounds they made, the gentle hum of the fridge that reminds me I should clean the back of it’s surface once in a while, the buzz of the dryer as it’s cleaning the dishes, the alternate small comments exchanged by my parents. Home will be home, no matter where I go.

No matter what I do, everything I’ve experienced growing up is a reminder, right here, in this place, this space that I call home. 

Even my room makes me flash back to the times where I’d toss and turn in bed, trying to figure out why Jimin had been such a jerk, why he’d been such an and why, oh why, was my case not different from the other girls considering that we were friends? 

Eventually the pain went away just like time does. Time is good at doing that, clearing out your memories and soothing over your wounds when you’re too tired to fight them. Sometimes, you might look at something and it makes you think back to that particular moment in time where you thought you’d never get back up again, but it brings back a sense of nostalgia and melancholy instead, those two emotions dulling out the pain you feel. It makes you think of everything you’ve gone through, all the battles that you’ve won and those that you lost, makes you think how life is just a series of misunderstandings and complications that make you realize what’s worth fighting for and what can be tossed aside for more important things. 

Life is a paradox. Life is saying something and meaning another. Life is all about breaking down the complicated, simplifying what cannot be understood into mere judgments, which sometimes aren’t as valid as you think they’d be. 

I’m busy scrolling through my old emails, trying to clear out as much as possible considering the fact that I never do on a daily basis. See, there’s two types of people; the ones that read every single mail and take time to read through even when it doesn’t interest them. And then there’s people like me, who let the mail accumulate in their inbox until its almost bursting at the seams that finally I have no other choice than to clear everything out and to mark all as read even when I barely had notion of its content in the first place. 

And suddenly, something catches my eye. 

Not just something. 

A name. 

I freeze in mid-scroll, not really registering the name that has appeared in my inbox amidst all the spams of promotions and advertisements about stupid sales and other subscriptions that don’t pique my interest. 

My fingers hesitate on the mouse. Do I really want to scroll back up and confirm my suspicions? 

I don’t have any drama in my life at the moment, and I’ve steered clear of its path after everything that had happened with a particular individual. But as I slowly start scrolling down again, the name keeps popping up inside my head and a small voice is egging me on, nagging me to open it, just scroll back up and open it, dammnit! 

I don’t want to, my brain screams an imperceptible ‘no!’ at me from afar, but my reflexes are faster, much more eager to know what’s really written on that particular email in question. The email comes into view a little too fast for my liking, and I can only stare at the two words jumping out of the screen. 

Park Jimin. 

Park. Jimin. 

It dates from a year ago. 4th August 2015. 

The day of my birthday. 

There’s no subject topic, nothing to hint at the message’s content. I find it weird that he’d send me something on the day of my birthday, and it’s even weirder that I haven’t taken notice of it. I’m usually attuned to my email because of my regular schedule updates from my University, but if I’d received something from him, I think I’d remember. It’s not something you can just brush off and forget that easily. 

My finger’s itching to tap on that damn computer and open up the message. But do I really want to open this up and run back to the past I’ve tried so hard running away from? Do I really want to get back into that mess, two years later? But thinking about it, it’s nothing major now if I open it. What’s the worst that can happen? Maybe this is a formal apology, a sudden burst of courage from his part where he apologized for everything he ever did that was wrong. Maybe he had realized the gravity of the situation, and he felt bad about it, so bad he had to write an email to me. 

I want to open it, my heart’s urging me to, but the logical, more reasonable part of my brain is yelling at me not to go there because I’d just spiral back down into that black hole I’ve managed to pull myself out of after such a long time. There are so many mixed emotions running through my thoughts at this moment; the anger that it’s taken him this long, the anxiety knowing that I'm reading this one year later although I haven’t seen his face ever since high school ended, the small excitement that’s making my heart cartwheel through my chest. I shouldn’t be so positive about this whole matter, not when I’ve always expected the worst from him. 

I have to remind myself that this is not just anyone, but the boy that had hurt me years ago, the boy that toyed with my heart and tossed it away like