＊jiyeon's diary

 july seventh twenty zero nine, 

I found out I had cancer. Malignant Lymphoma. I already predicted this when I found that bump on my neck, however this explained my sudden loss of appetite, and why I would suddenly feel sleepy and tired. Looking out the car window, I stared listlessly at the familiar streets and buildings, then my gaze fell upon my mother who was driving. Throughout the whole trip she hadn't uttered a single word to me. I wonder what was going through her mind. Was she worried? Was she scared?

Finally we reached our house. As soon as my mom and I entered the living room, my younger sister Hana was waiting on the couch, an unhappy expression plastered on her face. She complained to my mother and demanded for food. My mom quickly ran into the kitchen and began preparing dinner.

She was more concerned about Hana's hunger than my health.

Hana was only two years younger than me, however she was my complete opposite. She was bright, energetic and charismatic, but her grades were below average. Whenever she scored remotely well, my parents would celebrate with an expensive dinner. I, on the other hand, consistently scored high marks, but I was never praised once. I don't know why I even bothered trying to keep up my grades. As Hana grew older, she began to approach me with an attitude as if she were the older sister. 

"Unni, your eyes are so sunken it. It's so creepy!"

"Unni, really, look at your hair. It's so disgusting."

"Unni, sometimes I wonder how we're even related. Are you sure you're not adopted?"

I slowly grew to hate her. After a while, I stopped considering Hana to be my sister.

---

 july eighth twenty zero nine, 

I felt sick the next day. I woke up from a bad headache, and the raindrops that pelted itself against my window pane seemed to echo loudly in my head. Lying down in bed, I decided to skip school that day. This left my mom and I in the house together. However, she wouldn't speak to me at all. She came into my room and brought my lunch, and just as quickly, she left.

Why did she avoid me? 

I remember having memories of the both of us laughing together. When did my mom change?

Maybe it had to do with my grade 5 school year.

I was a quiet student back then too, then one day, a classmate ran up to my face and called me a ghost. Apparently, there was a show on supernatural events the night before, and I had resembled a ghost that appeared. After that day, whenever she saw me, she would obnoxiously come into my face and yell "ghost!" I was getting tired of her. Her voice, her face, everything about her pissed me off.

If she wanted me to be a ghost, then I would become a ghost and scare her.

Pushing the blade of a boxcutter against my index finger, I waited until a small amount of blood pooled at the tip. Pressing it on a notebook, I messily wrote 'die' as many times as I could on a page. After I was done, I slipped the notebook into her desk. After lunch ended, she found it. Her reaction was even better than I imagined. She immediately fell back and threw the notebook on the ground and began hyperventilating.

The notebook was then sent to the principal, who had called my mom in. 

Why did they make such a big fuss over a little prank?

As my mom and I left the office, I tried to reach for her hand, but she immediately pushed me away. From that moment on, my mother's body rejected me. After that day, my mother would avoid me.

---

 july ninth twenty zero nine, 

"Unni, I got an 81 on a test today!"

Hana who received a higher score than usual came into my room to boast. I stared at her quietly, wondering what response she wanted from me. When she realized that my grades would always be higher than hers, a snide pout appeared on her lips.

"Whatever, academics don't matter if you don't mature."

I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. Who did she think she was to tell me this? How much more mature could she be than me?

I was so tired of her.

As I began to stand from my bed, my legs gave way and I laid in the corner of my room, curled in the ball. I started to choke and gag, presumably from the chemotherapy.

Why was I the only person suffering?

---

 july twenty first twenty zero nine, 

Tomorrow's my mother's birthday so I went out to find a present for her. Honestly, I didn't really know what she would like so I spent almost two hours at the mall searching for the perfect gift until I settled on a black and white mug. I chose it since my mother was always drinking coffee whenever I saw her. It was more expensive than I expected, but I bought it anyway. My budget was a bit tight since I didn't have a job, but I didn't buy any books for a month to save money for her gift.

Placing the cup inside a small box, I proceeded to wrap it with a shiny gold paper. Tying a big ribbon at the top of the gift, I placed it on the dinner table so my mother could see it tomorrow.

I wonder if she'll like it.

---

 july twenty second twenty zero nine, 

The next evening, my mom began to open all her presents. Hana passed her gift to our mother. Upon opening it, she revealed a large coral pink Tiffany purse. Pressing it against her body, my mother's face lit up brightly and she hugged Hana to thank her for the gift. Both of them had bright smiles on their faces, and Hana began to coo about how it was so cute and how it fit our mother so well.

Her reaction was drastically different after opening my present. She gave me a quiet 'thank you' and put the mug away. Her focus and attention then went back to Hana's bag.

I wondered how Hana could afford a brand name bag? Did she ask our father for money?

I stared at the mug on the table then at my mother who was drinking from her usual cup. I felt bothered. Why didn't she use my mug?

After that day, my mom would always leave the house proudly carrying Hana's bag. My mug, however, was left in the kitchen cupboard as if it were some kind of decoration. My mother never once touched it after her birthday. It was in the cabinet collecting dust. It would only be taken out if guests came.

I wonder if she even remembers that it was a gift from me.

The only person that seemed to remember was Hana, and she mocked me with a small smile dripping with ridicule. 

I didn't know why I was so attached to that mug. Why was I so affected by it? I quietly went to my room and shut the door. I fell to my knees and started sobbing. My mother didn't need the mug. My dad didn't need it. My friends didn't need it.

No one needed it.

So that night, I went to the kitchen and took the mug from the cabinet. Covering it with a towel, I started to smash it with a hammer. With every swing, I increased my force until I physically and emotionally felt drained. It surprised me that no one woke up from the sounds of breaking and smashing. Pulling the towel away, the cup was reduced to a gray powder. I stared at it for a moment, then took a handful of clay powder and forced it down my throat. Taking a deep gulp of water, I swallowed. 

I expected the powder to scratch my throat, our cut my mouth, but I felt absolutely nothing, so I took bigger fistfuls and swallowed. That night was my farewell dinner to my family. 

The cup had disappeared from the world.

Now it was Hana's turn.