The Last Boy Scout

19

You wake up to the sound of your alarm clock ringing. What a great way to start the day, right?

You continue to lay in bed, your heart pounding to each beat the sound of your alarm clock makes. After five beats, it slowly begins to become off sync with your heartbeat, and that pisses you off, because you are one of those people.

Instead, you let the steady tempo of the alarm clock carry out the melody of your favorite song, and what song was that? You smile stupidly, knowing it's 6:40 in the morning and that one song by that boy band you liked when you were fourteen is now stuck in your head.

You finally sit up, and successfully bend over, shutting off the damn noise. The song keeps playing over in your head.

You trudge out of bed in your pajamas, your hair is a mess, and there is crust at the corner of your eyes. You don't care though, because it's just you in this lonely dormitory and you are lucky you don't have any roommates to worry about.

You don't usually get up this early. Your classes and lectures start at 10:15, though you need to work early shifts at work, in order to send money back home to your mother, who is sick.

You push the thought away, and strip off your clothes. You wrap yourself with a warm towel and turn on the shower. You like your showers warm; the way the water feels as it runs down your skin is satisfying. You are in a university dorm, not having to worry about using up all the hot water.

Now you contemplate as you stand in the shower with your head down, and look back on your life. Six years ago, you were living on the other side of the world, struggling to get over the death of your father, and not knowing you would move to Korea, in spite of a "new life" as your mother put it. You remember the desperate look on her face when she told you she was diagnosed. You moved to Seoul so you could be closer to her relatives, who were willing to help you and your mother with treatment, and getting you into a good school.

You remember asking yourself when this hell called your life would be over, you used to joke about death and hanging yourself, though there are really people out there who suffer everyday because they are serious about doing these things.

That was six years ago, you remind yourself. You are now twenty, and studying abroad at some fancy Korean university. You never thought you would make it through high school, but somehow you managed, and with the help of bribery and winning some competition, you got a scholarship that would pay all your student loans. How lucky am I? You ask yourself, thinking you don't deserve it. You didn't consider yourself smart. In your old country, you were considered mediocre, or less than average. Now in Korea, you are studying in a high class school that others would work their lives in order to attend.

You begin thinking about other things, like your old obsession for Kpop. You start to remember how you've always dreamed of meeting your bias, your favorite groups, and living in Korea. Well guess what? Now that you're obsession with all that is over, you finally had a chance to experience all that, and just the other day, too.

You have no idea how others look at you. You think you are worthless and not good enough, ever since you started becoming an adolescent. You are now considered an adult, and now you make fun of yourself because you are still so self-conscious about your image. You've rarely dated, and mostly focused on becoming 'cool' or often studies, but dating has never been a topic you liked to touch on. You've seen what it has done to your old friends, and even distanced yourself from them because of it.

You are proud of yourself because you don't drink, and are very careful and aware of your surroundings. Still, to this day, you are paranoid that someone will pop out of nowhere and snatch you, especially in this new city called Seoul.

You've been standing in the shower for about fifteen minutes now, but you don't care. You still enjoy the wrinkly feeling your fingers feel after you've been in water for too long. You scoff at yourself again because you are so childish, even when you try to dress to look sophisticated and even go to high-end coffee shops just to prove to those passing by that you are working hard.

You finally get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your hair and piling it on top of your head. You stand in front of the foggy mirror and trace out the reflection of your face.

You enjoy art, and you are proud of it. You also enjoyed singing, even if you were too shy to sing in front of others. Dancing and acting were also part of your talents. Because if it, you've considered attending a performing arts school, and to train to become an idol when you were fifteen. Like that would ever happen.

Instead, you ended up here, studying at a university you didn't even want to attend to, and workings extra shifts to help your mother. She is really proud of you, and you want to continue making her proud because pride and affection is something she rarely shows. The thought makes your heart flutter around.

You continue to stare at the mirror. The fog slowly begins to clear up, and the process is taking too long, so you wipe the mirror with a facecloth. Your image reflects back at you.

You stare at your round eyes. For an Asian girl, your eyes are fairly large, and you embrace that, though sometimes you wish they were smaller so you could fit in with the 'others'. You smile at yourself, and only to yourself because you are worried that when you smile with your teeth showing, others will make fun of your crooked tooth.

You slowly take out your makeup bag and pull out the makeup you will apply.

You fail to realize how beautiful you truly are, and how unique your personality is.

You apply your foundation, then your highlight, only because you stan the group Seventeen and everyone else has been so pushy about highlighting their cheekbones these days. You've also heard of something called contouring your face and giving it more depth, but you don't know how to, even though there are many tutorials, and you could simply just ask, but you are afraid to.

As you apply ink to your eyelids, you begin to think out you will ever make any new friends in such a big city. You've left your old friends in your hometown, in another country, and you are glad you'll never have to see them again. You have become more independent and more mature, as your aunt had told you once, and you feel like you didn't need any friends, but the thought keeps nagging you.

You always see other girls and roommates and couples walking along the streets, and wonder how they manage to study, work, and keep up with a social life all the while. Even though you won't admit it, partly because there's no one to admit it to, you crave for that same life and the attention it brings with it. You start to regret not applying for the performing arts school.

You shake away all the thoughts and memories that have crossed your mind. The day barely had begun, and already you are thinking too much of yourself.

You stand up tall, the mirror reflecting back an image of a young girl ready to go to work. You have yet to get dressed, so that is the next thing you do.

You change into simple clothes. You are so used to wearing a school uniform, and never really had the liberty to chose what you wear. You pick out a white collared shirt and black high-cut jeans. You tuck in the shirt into your pants and focus on your hair.

You try different hairstyles, pinning your hair to the back, pulling it into a ponytail, even clipping it to the side, which is something you've never done since high school.

You finally decide to leave your dark hair down as it is.

You look back in the mirror and stare deep into your brown eyes.

"I am strong," you remind yourself. "I am independent, I am smart, and I am Park Seokyeon,"

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