2. This Is How I Remember You
Tears. I remember the day I found you walking alone in the city. You were in a deep trance, and melancholy had absorbed your usual spunk. You had walked a distance before you slid down onto the steps, visibly defeated. I didn't know then why you seemed so destroyed, but I knew I didn't want to see you like this. I wanted to see you-
Smile. How your face radiates when you do, and how you light up a room just by doing so. On nights when I feel coldest, and most alone, I would picture your beautiful smile and it would warm my heart. I see it best when I close my-
Eyes. All my life, I'd looked into countless: lifeless, longing; bitter, emotionless; hungry, lustful. I suppose mine are no better. But I longed for something real. Where was the vivacity, the purity, the strength? And then, I found your eyes: doe-like and wide and surprised; filled with sadness, filled with fear, filled with wonder; curving at the ends, smiling as your mouth does. I've always heard how the eyes are the windows to one's soul, and I never knew what it meant till I looked into yours. How beautiful your soul is. This, I say in all-
Honesty. It started with you. You still believed in me somehow, even at my worst. You pushed me to face the deepest, darkest side of myself. How strong you are, my dear. How pure is your honesty. It was always your best-
Colour. Every spectrum of the rainbow, I think you have worn and adorn. I could never imagine you without any, because you are mine. Yes, cue the clichés, but my world is so much better with you in it. You've done too much for me. Could I ever-
Forget? I could never forget you, Ga Eul-yang. I never once have, or will. This is how I want to remember you, always: wide-eyed and wonderful, the sun in your smile, my strength forever.
After re-reading it for the umpteenth time, I gingerly folded the piece of paper and slid it back into its already-addressed and stamped envelope – this time, courageously sealing it once and for all. There was no turning back.
As I stood in front of the postbox, letter trembling in hand, a wave of insecurity swept over me. Would this make up for years of silence? Is it too late? How would she feel? Why did I do this only now? I don't know why myself. I know, however, that we all have to start somewhere again, even if we had already done so before. And this, is where I restart.
I closed my eyes and let my words slip from my grasp, away from me. There is a small thunk, and I stop holding my breath. I am now one step closer to reaching her, again.