2011:

Despair. That is one word in the 1,013,913 existing vocabulary of the English language that I can define by heart: the complete loss or absence of hope.  And I let that define me…

It’s 1 a.m. and I can’t fall asleep. I don’t dare turn the lights on though, because I want my parents to think I’m sleeping. I sit on my bed with my arms wrapped around my legs to keep them from shaking. I rock my body back and forth replaying the incident of yesterday morning again and again in my head. It was an exam day at Korean school. Hojung’s father came into the class in a hurry that morning and screamed at the top of his lungs at the teacher. “HOJUNG’S HOSPITALIZED. SHE ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID STUDENTS!!” He kicked and turned over my friend’s desk. He accused all of us for bullying her… I try to get that off my mind desperately so I peek outside the window through one of my broken blinds. And as soon as I see the tall tree, my mind lands on Preston. He was a friend…who hung himself on a tree few weeks back. I’m still staring outside searching for a plausible distraction. It’s just the same old view from the 9th floor: surrounded by mountains and a handful of city lights that I see everyday. Yet it’s all so strange and unfamiliar to me. When I stare up at the starless sky, I picture the blue blue Arizona sky I used to look up to. Tears are streaming down my face as I recall happy star-filled memories. The tears in my eyes make the city lights blurry but I can sense one of them blinking on and off, fighting to stay bright. After a fast flicker, it dies out. The darkness calms me, but it doesn’t cease the unfamiliarity. I don’t belong here.

2013:

Out of the corner of my eye, I see about thousand pecks of light glistening through my window blinds. With sudden curiosity, I rush up to my bed and stand on it to pull the blinds up. I forgot that today was New Year’s first full moon (jeongwol daeboreum). Countless lanterns are floating up to the sky. It’s as beautiful as a sky filled with stars. I see people out in the streets looking up to the full moon. They must be making a wish. With that thought, I think of what I would wish for. My eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. After a while, I decide I am happy that nothing in particular comes to mind. Last year, I would have had so much to wish for. I look to the mountainous areas where each lantern soars up.  And with each lantern, it’s as if one of my worries are lifted. Streetlights at the bottom of the mountainous areas are as bright as ever. I wonder why I have never noticed how my view from the window is full of lights. The lanterns remind me again, of the New Year, new beginnings, and of the new school. At the new school, for the first time in what seemed like forever, someone prayed for me before a meal. For the first time in my life, I was at a school with people like me; people who are unsure of their identity, people who are neither full Korean nor American, and people who share the same hurtful past. I look up at the sky and smile. It’s no star-filled sky, but thousands of flickering lights once a year will suffice. Maybe I do belong.