Weeks passed since my Dabby (Dad + Buddy) died, and it was time to go back to school. Everyone at school was acting normal, as if nothing had changed. What the f**k? My dad just died, and no one seemed to care whether I was doing okay or not. In fact, they all seemed happy—as if nothing had happened. My teachers never bothered to ask if I was okay.
I just ignored it all and focused on my schoolwork. I wished it was that easy. Inside, I was brewing with anger, hatred, sadness, and most of all, pain. I was lost in a world of mixed emotions, a world I couldn't understand. But everything changed the day a classmate made fun of my dad like they always did. At that moment, I was lost and confused. How could human beings be so cruel? No! It couldn't be. They are not humans at all. What kind of human makes fun of their classmate's deceased dad?
That day, I decided I wouldn't let mere human beings trample on my feelings anymore—not now, not in this lifetime, and not ever. I became an emotionless, hollow, emptied being.
After that day, I started my revenge. I spilled all the secrets about my friends, told teachers that they were cheating on tests, and revealed their true colors to everyone. Ever since, I became known for my cold-heartedness in school. Many tried to break me—hiding cheat sheets in my books during exams and tests—but unfortunately for them, they never succeeded. When I was called into the staff room, I answered every question related to the subject I was about to write. Some questions weren't even part of the test, but I answered them anyway. Eventually, they gave up.
Years passed, and I was in eleventh grade. The world grew crueler every day. I had no reason to live, so one day, I drank three full bottles of sleeping pills, painkillers, and fever reducers. But I didn't die.
I was sure I wouldn't survive, but I did.
The next day, I was going to try again, but it seemed my sister noticed. She gave me her phone and said she saw some Korean boys on TikTok that she thought I might like. I took the phone and watched.
It was then—at that very moment—that I met my seven Korean babies. Well, the youngest was eight years older than me, and the oldest was thirteen years older—but that's beside the point. The point is that the video showed them and another oppa, who I later found out died the same year as my dad (2017). They were fighting for a seat, and one said, "Let the other sit, okay?" Then they all stood up, making space for each other.
I cried watching because of the respect and love they shared. I kept scrolling through more videos of them. There was one backstage where they were injured and struggling to breathe, but they still had more performances to do—and they did perform, even though they were hurt.
Some videos showed how they were criticized and hated by people on social media, but they never gave up on their armies. At that very moment, I decided to keep living because they gave me hope.
I became an ARMY—a huge one.
I studied hard so I could be successful enough to protect them. I passed grade 12 very well and went to university. I studied hard for them and my siblings because I wanted to make sure they didn't live a life like mine.
I loved sciences so much that in my spare time, I did my own research and created my own theories. I applied to study microbiology in the States, and guess what? After all my hard work, it paid off. I was offered a scholarship that covered everything—citizenship, accommodation, flights, and all necessary expenses. On top of that, I received an allowance enough to live comfortably throughout the scholarship.
I was so happy that I forgot all about my past for a moment.
Suddenly, I started feeling dizzy. Someone knocked on my door. I stood up and opened it, finding my crazy friend, Einstein.
She started complaining that she'd been knocking for an hour. Before I knew it, everything went blank.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had been unconscious for three days, and they couldn't get hold of my family. I asked the nurse what was wrong, and she told me to wait for the doctor.
That's when I knew something was very wrong.
The doctor came and told me I had end-stage kidney failure. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, he also said I had late-stage brain cancer, and it was incurable. I only had months to live.
My friend broke into tears, but I didn't. I had to stay strong—for all of us.
I asked to be discharged, and they didn't argue because they saw I wasn't in the mood. Einstein and I left the hospital and went back to our residence. I told her not to tell anyone and let me deal with it my way.
She was understanding and cheered me up to lighten the mood. When we reached my room, everyone from my block asked what was wrong. Seeing my mood, Einstein told them it was because of a health issue they already knew about, and they believed her.
She told me to rest and promised to come back later to check on me. Ever since then, she spoiled me so much I forgot I was dying.
Until one day, a car came out of nowhere and hit me on my way to school.
The car drove away without slowing down. It was as if someone had called a hit on me.
The last thing I remember was hearing someone call an ambulance.
When I woke up, I was weak and barely breathing. Different people wearing scrubs surrounded me—I could tell they were doctors and nurses trying to do the impossible.
I pulled on a doctor's scrubs to get his attention. He was shocked.
"Didn't you sedate the patient?" he asked angrily, fearing for my life.
"I did, sir, but I don't know why the patient is awake," the nurse answered, shocked.
I pulled off the oxygen mask and asked if anyone had a phone. They were all shocked, but then the doctor understood what I wanted and handed me a phone.
I took it and went live on TikTok.
I just had to say goodbye—to my babies, family, and friends.
Even though I couldn't see them face to face, I was able to say goodbye before I died.
And after that, my heart stopped beating.