Warning: attempted suicide

Sometimes the clouds are gone, a sky full of different hues of blue and a sun that shines so bright, the flowers bloom and light would graze across the bedrooms, creating patterns of gold across bed sheets. Sometimes the air would be so fresh and clean that you could breathe it in deeply, feel the different particles of oxygen as it ran through your lungs. 

When the day is quiet enough you could hear the barking of other dogs from the neighboring houses, you could smell the steam from the gopchang jeongol cooking on the stove and the tv playing softly, a variety show on with the MC laughing obnoxiously. Chatter could be heard downstairs but just small conversation until it dissapeared completely.

Ocassionally music will drift throughout the house, the tunes in various tones of pop, soft jazz or classical instruments creating noise between the quiet areas of the house.

On some days, a walk outside would suffice and do a mind good, around the neighborhood where the houses are spread out far enough to have privacy but still close so that it doesn't feel like you're deserted out there.

A ways down from the neighborhood the rushing sound of the Busan sea can be heard in the distance and if you walk over to the shoreline, waddling through the warm sand you can smell the sea as if it's almost filling up in your bones. The water is a crystal clear blue and sways lightly to the seagulls that fly overhead and crash loudly if the water is up to it.

Families will drag their spouses and children out to the sea, laughing and creating conversation along the sand while the men jump into the sea and little boys chase after them.

On the days when it's crowded are the really good days, the best of days. It means that work has been abandoned, that appa didn't stay back at the office or umma wasn't too tired from doing the chores around the house today.

But then there are the extremely bad days, the worst days that seem to stay more often.

When the clouds create a screen around the sky and all there is is darkness and gloomy skies. The sun won't shine and the once warm crisp scent in the air will vanish just like the scent of a beautiful day.

Those are the days that Yujin will refuse to go outside. Days and sometimes weeks at a time.

She'll shut her door so the tv playing and the music that drifts up the stairs can't be heard. The sound of dogs barking will only get louder until it feels like they're viciously snarling at her and the smell of food that comes through the air vents will make her sick to her stomach.

On the days when it's bad, going outside is a chore and torture. The outside world only further reminds her of a horrible place that she can't escape and wants to so desperatedly.

The chatter that she can hear irritates her ears and headphones can only really block out all the noise until all that's left is a silent void of the wall and her shadow from the lamp.

The bad days are the worst when she can't handle it; when she cries into her pillow for hours and flings things around her room for no reason at all. When she hits the wall or feels so sick that she has to throw up into the trashcan across her room. When she stares at her deep purple comforter for hours and locks the door to her room so no one can come in,

On the bad days, Yujin will stay awake until dawn and lay in bed looking out the window even though the curtains are drawn closed and only imagine what it's like outside.

Her parents have spoken to her and tried to get her help but the look in her umma's eyes only confirmed what she had knew all along; she had failed as a mother and would eventually lose her daughter.

Yujin knew her parents were always thinking about when the day would come, when they would wake up and come into her room to find her unconcious, when they would find her in the closet hanging from the rod or in the tub face down in a pool of soap and water.

She's counted down the days too and avoided it as long as possible, she's tried to see the good that the wonderful days bring her when she isn't suffering or talk herself into believing she won't be like this forever.

There's a notepad in her desk that Yujin ticks off days and erases and starts new ones when she feels better. It's a constant game of write, scratch off, erase and rewrite.

Eventually she runs out of pencils, the notepad becomes full and she can no longer erase or rewrite anymore.

That day is today.

1:35 am

Her father is away at a music performance where he teaches a symphony and her mother is fast asleep in the ajoining room across the hall; the sleeping pills having took affect.

Yujin pulls on her black converse from the back of her closet, a thin navy blue sweater and pulls her arms through as she grabs a rubber band to put her hair in. She turns the light off in her room, after taking one last look around. She had cleaned up the day before, imacuately, her books all put away on the shelf, her bed made and all the clothes and shoes put away neatly.

Her desk had been organized and she set her laptop underneath the pillow, the same place she put it every night. After shutting the door quietly, she tiptoes down the stairs and goes out the back door, opening it softly and closing it in the same manner.

She doesn't leave a note, say goodbye to her mother or look back again after she walks off. Goodbyes are impersonal and her mother's never wanted her anyway. Yujin considers it a parting gift.

By the time she gets to the sea; fifteen minutes have passed, the wind has picked up and it's chilly as she pulls the sweater tighter around her frame. It's completely pitch black, the water lapping lazily at the shore and she walks through the