Listen to I Like Me Better by Lauv to set the mood.

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“Hi, New York.” I shift slightly on the stool I’m perched on. My legs are too short to reach the footrest, so I’m forced to either sit properly with my legs dangling like a little child, or sit on the very edge, stretching my toes to reach the metal bar.

As expected, the audience shouts as I say the name of the city we are currently in; always a crowd pleaser.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I say, sounding way more confident than I feel as I push my hair over my shoulder, “that I changed my set list a little today.”

I feel so nervous. I’ve practiced and practiced until my voice was sore and my fingers bleeding, but I’ve never performed it in front of anyone but Lisa and Jisoo, and now there was no escaping.

“Are there any lovers out there, today?” another roar went through the arena, and I see some couples up at the front smile at each other and kiss. “This one’s for you.” I carefully place my fingers on the right chords and memory takes over as my fingers slide over guitar strings with skills I didn’t know I possessed.

To be young and in love in New York City (New York City)

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me

To be drunk and in love in New York City

Rosé is the one who always keeps me grounded. If I ever get too high on myself, she’ll pull me right back down to earth, as if she’s my very own gravitational field. She is my sun, and for as long as she loves me, I will orbit around her. Whenever I feel like I’m losing my sense of self, she’s there to whisper reassurances into my ear as her hand rubs soothing circles on my skin.

She knows that I panic if I wake up without her next to me, especially when on tour. Waking up in a new hotel room almost every morning is something I’ll never get used to, but then I’ll feel her hands on me, see her beautiful brown eyes, and laugh as she kisses my cheeks repeatedly, and all I can think is; I’m completely and utterly in love with this girl.

And today I woke up in love in New York City.

Midnight into morning coffee

Burning through the hours talking

Every time I see her, I’m reminded of the first time.

I was 16, and after being a trainee for almost two years I was confident and maybe a little too cocky. It was before my fears of never debuting presented themselves.

She was 15, with the most stunning voice I’d ever heard. She was shy, and her voice uncertain as she spoke flawed Korean, but when she sang…chills. Instant chills. I probably fell in love with her then, I just didn’t realize it.

Lisa met her in the elevator and dragged her to meet Jisoo and I. There she was, the girl from all the way down in Australia, with her skinny jeans and blue t-shirt, guitar hanging haphazardly on her back.

“Hi! I’m Roseanne. Or Rosie. Or Chaeyoung. Oh wow, that’s a lot of names, isn’t it?”

“Jennie. Or Jen. Or Nini.” I tried to ease her nerves.

“Or Jendeukie.” Jisoo had added as I glared at her.

“That’s a lot of names too.” Rosie said with a laugh.

The smile she gave me when I told her that I’d moved back to Korea from New Zealand made any and all doubts I had about her melt away as I became instantly addicted to it.

Turns out, she was a Kiwi at heart, and by passport.

We burnt through the hours talking and singing. I became mesmerized by the way her slim fingers so deftly moved across guitar strings, and she must’ve noticed me staring ‘cause she blushed slightly, and it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She promised me she’d teach me one day.

The fact that I’m up on stage playing right now, proves that she kept her promise.

“How do you like your coffee?” I’d asked as I stood up, my legs aching from being seated for too long.

“Oh, uhm,” her nervousness intrigued me, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Years later she’d told me that that was her first-time drinking coffee, and that she’d been terrified that would take mine black, as she was too scared to ask for milk and sugar in case I’d think less of her.

As if I could ever think less of Roseanne Park.

We went straight from our common room to our classes that morning, never having touched our beds.

Damn, I like me better when I'm with you

I like me better when I'm with you

I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause

I like me better when

I like me better when I'm with you

I look to the side of the stage and see a whisk of blonde hair as Rosie dances along to my words, that same smile from the first time we met splayed across her face.

She is as close as I will ever get to love at first sight. Every time I see her my heart expands almost painfully, as if trying to capture all the love I have for this girl. She’s funny, and smart, and gorgeous, and talented, and most importantly, she is mine and I am hers.

When I’m with her I feel like a new person, but in a good way. I constantly want to be the person Rosie sees me as, because the thought of ever disappointing her makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Everyone knows I have a resting face, but sometimes, shockingly, I can actually be a . It’s not my fault people are so damn stupid. But every time I’m about to go all Solange on them, I’ll feel her hands on me, or I’ll hear her soothing voice, and occasionally just smelling her perfume is enough, and I’ll calm down instantly. Then she’ll wrap me in her arms and whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I’m a giggling mess, all iness evaporated into thin air.

For our one-year anniversary she actually gave me a vintage Chanel locket with a photo of her looking angelic as on one side, and the letters WWRD engraved on the other half. ‘What would Rosie do’ I’d whispered as I ran my finger over it, and she’d grinned and said that it was for those times when she wasn’t there to calm me. It had become my mantra ever since.

I’m wearing it right now. Usually I’ll absentmindedly play with it, but my fingers are a bit preoccupied, so feeling the cold metal against my skin is all the reminder I’ll get for now.

Thanks for making me a better person, Rosie.

I don't know what it is but I got that feeling (got that feeling)

Waking up in this bed next to you swear the room

Yeah, it got no ceiling

When we all went to Hawaii, Rosie and I had found a secluded spot with a hammock and we lay there for hours, her arms around me as I rested my head on her chest.

It made me think of that interview I’d done once, where I’d said that if I could I would go off grid to a place where no one would be able to find me. That hammock in Hawaii with Rosie was as close as I’ll ever get, and it was perfect. Of course, I’d want Rosie with me in my little utopia.

We’d listened to the warm summer breeze rattling in the palm trees around us, and the gentle swoosh of rolling waves climbing up on sandy shores, leaving behind patterns and foam as it slowly retracted, only to wash up once again. It brought me back to my time in New Zealand, where my host sister and I would run along the edge of the water, taking bets on whether this wave would reach further than the last.