April 4, 2013.

200 days passed since I woke.

I was getting slightly annoyed, it was my choice. Always, to walk the further path home despite my sore feet, despite the aging car license in my purse.

I would ride the train pass a stop much closer to home and took a bus to Dongdaemun then walked along the stream of cheonggye. This particular street has this strange value in me, that slight tug inside my chest each time I saw the low stream and that low subtle background music in the atmosphere.

Again, today I walked home from that street. My knees pulsing from the 3 kilometer trip and my throat gritty, dry from the chilly air as I grabbed this journal.

What was I searching there? Tonight, like any other night, I would sleep. Unanswered.

 

 

April 5, 2013

201 days after I woke.

Today, my foot hesitated. Was it finally realizing that there is nothing there that I could find? My life is complete, parents, loyal friends and a decent job, but nights like the last one made me feel incomplete.

After that two years coma….. everybody…

Everybody said that I was fine, that there is perfectly nothing that I could have left behind; they told me that I was okay.

But the moment I opened my eyes, I was searching for something. I looked straight through those familiar faces and immediately searched around. Something was missing and it’s still is.

Before I knew it I had walked this many times on this street. Right after leaving work, my body would just naturally follow this repeating path. And every food vendors, every coffee shop knew me like I lived there.

They would see me and smile, asking me if I had found what it is that I am relentlessly searching for. I would nod my head and moved on the next step.

Stamping a feigned smile on my face, brushing away the soreness in my legs, as well as my heart.

This cold bath is rather useless for relieving my heavy heart I guess, writing this while soaking my aching feet.

I am once again, unanswered.

 

 

May 4, 2013.

230 days after I woke.

Tonight’s trip was rather light, oddly. Well it is the weekends. Yes apparently I would walk this street even on days where there is no work. But again if I didn’t, then my heart would beat restless and I would end up not sleeping, fearing that I might miss something.

So today, I walked slowly while enjoying the music played by these familiar buskers. And it was my song, I remembered how twisted I would feel each time I heard it.

But I stood there, enduring these urges of tears up until the song ended. Then discretely I would wipe the traces away from my cheeks and turned away.

However strangely today, while I was busy preparing myself for that song my eyes somehow dwelled on a particular back. Blonde glossy hair, grazing ever so slightly on his pale neck and broad shoulders covered with this casual grey sweater. Who is he, I tried tip toeing for a better view but all I could see was his back.

Who was it, this person who owned this breathtaking back view?

And most definitely why was I so attracted……

Tonight my eyelids closed with a different question, for the first time I slept without tearing my sanity apart.

Without blaming my hollowed memories.

 

May 10, 2013.

236 days after I woke.

That back had disappeared, I walked this street night by nights finally having a purpose and that purpose vanished. I reminded myself again, for each step I reluctantly took on this path that there was nothing there for me.

But in the end I was in the same store, the same road and inevitably the same street. Sipping coffee while reading my books, thankfully a little less concerned on trying to find anything.

When I realized that the mug was empty I called on a familiar face, a waitress that had been serving me coffee on each weekend I stopped by. She was rather surprised by my sudden visit, a little off routine she quoted.

“it’s Friday night Sulli and I want my coffee” I said while handing her my mug, grinning to her death stare. But she kindly replied, “arassoyo. I’ll make you an extra strong black coffee, just make sure to leave before we close alright”

Sarcastically the girl took my drink away and I waited patiently for it to return. Staring out the huge glass window noticing that the buskers were back and like always they were playing my song and I could hear it through the cracks of the wall.

It was bizarre, I didn’t feel like running outside. Instead I sat still, closed my eyes and listened to the creaky subtle music.

“EXCUSE ME MR JOE. HERE IS YOUR EXTRA!! EXTRA BLACK COFFEE.” She called me, slightly kicking me at the ankles while I smiled at her face. She seemed like she waited forever.

Reaching my mug when my hand halted, my eyes had stopped on a view at the counter that had brought a big wide grin to my face. “YARGH!” the rough waitress slapped my frozen palms rather aggravated with me probably wasting her time. I looked straight into her eyes as she flinched, taken aback by my intense gaze. Now that I realized I never really looked at anyone near that street in the eyes before.

“ww…waeyo?” she stuttered, exhaling the moment my gaze shifted back to the counter. “who’s that. Never seen him before…..” I said, my eyes still locked on that back. That beautiful back I saw a month ago.

A back I thought was gone.

She turned around and I could see a sheepish coy smile painted across her face as her cheeks slightly flushes. I tugged on her black apron, “aishh stop checking him out and tell me yeoja-ya!” slightly pulling her back.

She cleared and again, rather coyly the girl sat in front of me. Sweeping her hair back and looking at me with this enthusiastic expression. “that oppa…. Is the new hot guy who just moved back here about a month ago.”

moved back

“was he here before? Why moved back?” I asked still trailing his back desperately trying to catch a glimpse of his face. “uhh… he used to own a bookstore here. But then one day, the store closed and he disappeared. But he never took down the signage. They say his fiancée died or something that’s why he left”

Fiancé.. I took my cup and pressed it on my lips still locking eyes with that person when finally he turned around.

“EOMOO! OPPA ARE YOU ALRIGHT! OMG ITS HOT!”

 

 

May 11, 2013.

237 days after i woke from sleep.

I looked at my hand, snugly wrapped with white bandage. I am at home tonight, drained from what had happened last night. I couldn’t bear walking there, not now.

 It was astounding, the pain. My skin crawled with torture, the moment that boiling coffee had spilled on me. But honestly it wasn’t my skin that ached, it my chest.

Just when I thought this slight tug has died down, the moment I saw his face I could actually feel my guts twisting and cringing as my heart throbbed. I didn’t know him, nor have I ever seen his face.

But when that ceramic piece of mug dropped on the floor my heart had followed and shattered along. He is beautiful, perfectly good looking.

With those pale milky skin and that blonde hair, how fit the white shirt was and those deep deep almond eyes. When I saw his face my head pulsed excruciatingly and I could feel the air getting thinner and thinner.

My view went blur and when I woke up this morning I was at the clinic, getting fluids and mother by my side. I remembered when I opened my eyes, I could barely see but I definitely saw something.

He was in the room, that blonde hair guy. I had seen his back despite my hazy sight.

He was there. How could he? Why would he?

No… who is he?

 

 

 

June 1^st, 2013.

261 days after I woke up from that lonely dark place. I remembered how black it was, but despite all that darkness I saw a glimpse of light. It was the street lights of dongdaemun.

I sat there for each passing hour, begging and begging again for it  to end. Then I remembered on the night I was about to gain consciousness, to finally be back alive, there was a store. I saw a bookstore amongst this pitch black surrounding me.

I remember now, I saw him. I saw that exact shoulder, that exact blonde hair and that exact back.

I was back, on that path again. I was back at dongdaemun’s peaceful street. And instead of walking mindlessly, a purpose had come into this endless journey.

I counted my steps there. 800 steps from the bus station, exactly one more until I reached a bookstore. Then when I arrived I stared into the window, scanning the place.

It looked safe, warm from the beige-ish lightings and the air was slightly sweet, scented from the lighted candles.

I took a seat and ran my hands over the stacks of books beside the table, when I heard footsteps. I held my breath, gripping the fibers of my ripped jeans.

When our eyes met and so naturally my tears streamed down. I was shut silent, my heart was overwhelmed.

“Pabbo. Took you long enough byunggie.”

I replied his mockery with a grin, wiping the flowing tears off my chin while they spilled more. “yeah…” casually he took a book out of the racks and placed it on my hands. The title was agonizingly ironic.

‘Remember me?’

“yes… I do. Chanhee….” Instead of taking it, I fetched his hands and held it quietly. He too took my cold palms and held even more tightly.

June 2^nd, 2013 : 1 AM. 262 days after waking up from a two year coma, I am writing this in a bookstore with a man that i knew only of his name.

No, my memories did not come back. I do not remember why and what I did in this particular street and what my relationship really was with lee chanhee.

But I am sure of this, the way I see him and the way he sees me…

I have found it, the missing treasure of this annoyingly far and long street. I found once more, my heart.