When I wake up, I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, just thinking to myself. What in the world am I doing with my life? Oh yeah, being a perfect person and making everyone jelly.

I yawn and turn my body to look at the clock on my nightstand. 8:10. Sunday. I snuggle deeper into my blankets and try to sleep again, but the TV, which I left on last night, is too loud. One thing I miss about living with my family is having my parents to do things like turn off the TV, tuck me in at night, and tell the police it wasn't me when they found a bunch of cows tipped in the fields in my neighborhood.

Who said that.

I reluctantly sit up and take the TV remote in my grubby little hands, hit the power button, and toss the remote onto my nightstand. I stand up—slowly, very slowly—and walk into the bathroom, beholding the sight that is my bed hair.

WOW.

There really is no greater beauty in all of Korea.

I smile to myself and take care of my morning routine: shower, then clothes, hair, contacts, and teeth. Ah, clean—the best feeling... aside from peeing.

--

I walk to my piano and slide my fingers along the white keys, feeling the smoothness of the ivory. I close my eyes and begin playing whatever comes to mind. This is a regular practice, so I've gotten pretty good at improvising. YEAH IT. Today, I start with a somewhat sad song. I think of my family and friends back home and try to match the chords and floating melody with my feelings. I pause and look down at my hands, which had come to fold in my lap, two warm tears falling on them.

When I was young, my mom told me that if I wanted to be a good musician, I had to learn music theory, but if I wanted to be a great musician, I had to study my feelings and learn how to connect them with theory. For a long time, I struggled with that. However, when I moved to Seoul, I learned what true love was. Not romantic love (ew), but a family-and-friend kind of love. I learned what it was like to miss someone so much that you would literally give up anything to see them again. I learned that the good times are what you make them, same as the bad times. I learned who I was and who I wanted to become. I learned that without the people I loved and missed, none of this would have been possible. Now, I find it easy to play any piece beautifully (even Stravinsky) and with overflowing emotion.

Sometimes, I ask myself why some musicians—including some people at my school—are so cold and withdrawn while they play music, when all they need to do is open themselves up to the world and use their emotions to create beautiful music.

And now you're like, “wait a second. but you're cold and withdrawn, too.” Well, true. But that's just because I don't like people here.

BUT.

I'm never emotionless when it comes to music.

Don't ever get that mixed up.

I stand up and wander into the kitchen, looking for food. FOOD. WHERE MY FOOD AT. After searching in every single cupboard and compartment in the fridge, I sigh and give up, shaking my fist at the ceiling. Time for another durn shopping trip, I guess.

Because I'm not abnormally hungry or anything, I stop by at the nearest convenience store and walk around the aisles, searching for something appetizing. Ummm.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

I stroll through the aisles with an irritated expression, not finding anything to my liking. I just get angrier and angrier with every aisle I walk through. Why can't someone make a convenience store just for me. It would only have foods that I like and they would call it THE FREAKING YOO SUNNI SHOP 'cause they're not that creative.

I finally decide to buy 12 packs of ramyun and 3 bottles of orange juice, frustrated that they didn't have any escargot or sophisticated food like that for Korea's top beauty. I mean, seriously. Don't they know that someone like me lives just down the street?

I slowly make my way to the check-out counter, trying not to drop any of my precious items, and wait in line patiently.

I'm being patient.

I'm being so patient.

So pa-- WILL YOU PEOPLE HURRY UP ALREADY.

IT'S BEEN LIKE FIVE HOURS AND I'M STILL STANDING HERE.

Okay I may be exaggerating a bit, but it's been like TWO WHOLE MINUTES WHAT IS THIS.

The last person shuffles their way out of the store and I roll my eyes. Took ya long enough. I waddle my way up to the counter and spill everything out of my arms, surprising the cashier. I look up at him, taking in his short, black hair and defined cheekbones. He looks like a weirdo. I watch as he raises an eyebrow, picks up a ramyun and scans it 12 times, watching me the whole time as if he was suspicious of me.

WHAT DO YOU WANT, PEASANT.

He bags my items and places them on the counter. “Miss, that'll be 30,700 won,” he says.

Awrite. I just got money from my parents. Dat's nuthin.

He draws in his lips and looks at me as I look back at him suspiciously and take my wallet out of my back pocket.

Wat.

Where da heck is my wallet.

Don't tell me.

IT'S IN MY FRONT POCKET, ISN'T IT!

I reach in my front pocket, jacket pocket, EVERY SINGLE POCKET (even his pocket once before he slapped my hand away), but it's nowhere to be found. “Uh. Could you hold those for me? I forgot my wallet at home or something,” I say.

“Miss, it's on the counter.”

“No, it's--” I look right in front of me, facepalming when I see my wallet. “Oh. Thanks.” I extract my money and place it on the counter, not wanting to touch his hand or look at him any longer. I pick up my bags.

“Here's 300 won as your change. Thank you for shopping, and come back soon,” he says. He probably smiled or something, too, but I just left without looking.

Well, that was embarrassing. I hope I never see him again.