My brothers always called me chaotic and I didn’t blame them. I guess I was, in more ways than one. That’s what living in a small island does to you. Spending 19 boring years of my life selling vegetables and fruit wasn’t exactly my idea of a happy life. I guess you could say I’m that girl who’s desperate to leave, but can’t.

Jejudo was a well-known island off the coast of the South Korean Peninsula. In other words, an island secluded off in the middle of the ocean. Yes, I know what you’re probably thinking.

‘You live in Jejudo and you think you’re living a boring life?!’

Yes, Jejudo is all about zip lining, beautiful beaches, and the amazing outdoors, but when you have those aspects weaved into every hour, every minute, and every second of your life;  you end up getting bored of everything. I wasn’t satisfied with a restrained, secluded life.

I was the girl who yearned for the spontaneity, recklessness, and the freedom the city had to offer.

Spending another day stuck at the local market selling vegetables and halmoni’s homemade fishcakes with my brother, Cheondung, was just as boring as selling it last week with my other older brother, Minho.

“Yah, did you hear? Yaejin-ahjumma’s grandson is coming here to stay with her for the summer! I heard he’s a famous singer,” muttered my brother from where he sat, reading a magazine.

It’d been a slow day at the market and we both were itching to go home. I looked up at him from my nail biting. “Is that what all those stupid girls in town have been freaking out about? I can’t even go into Yaejin-ahjumma’s dukkboki stand without being shoved to the side by a bunch of screaming girls trying to get her approval to be her grandaughter-in-law,” I complained, making a bitter face.

Cheondung scooted closer to the edge of his stool and made a face.

“I hear he’s supposed to be a big deal. Also heard he’s a big shot producer and song writer. If you’re nice for once, maybe he might be your chance to go to the city,” he suggested, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.