Through the waterworks, I remembered my childhood and the times I had spent with Eura. Eura was what Koreans would consider the perfect golden child. She was smart, knew how to play piano, was able to speak Korean like a native despite being born and raised in America, and could practically do anything and everything. My parents were always boasting about her; she was the daughter that every parent wanted.

While she was seen as perfect, I knew that she wasn’t. Everyone had revered her, but I did not. The reason was because I knew she had several weaknesses behind that pristine exterior.

Her perfect daughter persona was only a front to please those around her—specifically our parents. I knew from her eyes that she didn’t want to play the part, but she had to. Because of that, she grew up quite apathetic. She cared little about anything and everything.

She wasn’t a gentle person either. I had remembered an incident back when I was in elementary school where she had slapped me out of anger. The cause of the incident was due to me showing her what my friends did at school: stretching my eyes back with my index fingers.

My family grew up in a neighborhood where there were not many Koreans, let alone Asians. I was one of the few Asians in my school—I was the only Asian in my second grade class. Children are not necessarily evil—their judgment comes from how they are nurtured. The children in my school weren’t nurtured to deal with Asians, hence their idea of them was the stereotypes engraved into them by the media. I learned what racism was that day and how awful it felt.

After that incident, my sister had avoided me for a few years; I could tell she was afraid of hurting me like she did before. That was when I learned she was a sensitive person underneath that perfect mask. We didn’t become close until I was in middle school.

My middle school days were the most troubling times of my life. Although I don’t remember the exact details, I do remember how people of different races, even those of my own, bullied me emotionally, verbally and physically. They hurt me; I hurt them back. There was no middle ground in the violent, vicious storm I caught myself in. It was suffocating; it felt like I was dying inside.

Eura had helped me find a way out of the storm. She understood what I was going through because she was going through the same thing; she was in high school at the time and a friend had betrayed her, causing her to become distrustful towards others besides family. She had advised me to brave through the storm because all storms stopped while humans did not.

I took her advice to heart and it made those awful days bearable. However, the happiness only lasted a while as I too became distrustful of the world and people as I had friends turning their backs towards me during my high school days. After a big falling out with a friend, I stopped trusting in people completely.

I stopped talking to people. I made a boundary between them and me. I had refused to talk and only chose to communicate with a sketchbook—a habit that continues today. I hated people, but I hated connections most of all; humans have to connect in order to persevere. Connection is the foundation of nurturing; the moment a child is conceptualized as a fetus, a connection is formed between mother and child. When a child is born, they connect with their family and other people to grow. As a child grows up, they learn to connect and wield it; it is a human’s natural go-to weapon.

At the time, I hated being around people. I was terrified of what they thought of me and I thought the worst whenever one would approach me. I was so distrusting that it disgusts me to this day. Eura was the one who helped me find a footing.

I remembered how she just marched into my boundaries and gave me the longest pep talk on how I was pathetic for being gloomy; although her words had pissed me off, I knew she said those things in order to encourage me. She didn’t want me to be pathetic. She wanted me to bask in the light.

Eura was able to find light because she had fallen in love with her current husband and found a dream in being an attorney. She wanted me to do the same. She wanted me to fall in love and to find a dream. While I did find a dream in art, I do not believe I have the capability to fall in love with someone—not after what I had been through. I’ve only started my path of being able to forgive my parents; how am I supposed to love when I just took a small, miniscule step?

Perhaps, the tears I am shedding are also those of disappointment in my inability to meet expectations, whether it is from my parents or Eura. I’m sorry, Eura. I don’t think I can be happy now or ever.