There are moments that become clearer as time passes.
The reason is that the morning and evening before,
Because morning and afternoon coexist with oneself.
But, my morning,
My dinner is,
My morning is,
My afternoon did not coexist with me.
Every day was painful and new.
It's because of a fucking, useless mental illness called anterograde amnesia*.
/
[Anterograde amnesia]
Anterograde amnesia is a condition that occurs when short-term memories cannot be converted into long-term memories.
When I woke up with my eyes swollen open, the weather and sensations were different every day.
The feel of the blanket in my hand was different.
The weather in my memory yesterday was clearly summer, but when I rubbed the frosted window with my thick pajamas, I saw that it was covered in snow.
“...What is it?”
Tinnitus in my ears and headaches came to me countless times in a short period of time.
My mother knocked on the white door a couple of times and handed me some clear water and some pills.
"... did you sleep well?"
"Mom, why is it winter already? It should have been summer. It should have been July 5th, 2018. Why is it winter?"
“...2018 is the past.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s 2020 now.”
Oh, my head hurts.
It can never be 2020.
I quickly turned on my phone and the date was December 18, 2020.
All I remember is that I was hit by a car on a hot summer day while walking to school.
Whenever I tried to recall yesterday, only darkness enveloped my vision.
“Take your medicine and check the pink notebook on the shelf over there.”
Speaking in an orderly tone, Mom left the room.
Something seemed to be seriously wrong.
As I turned each page of the pink notebook, I found my daily diary written in my own handwriting.
“What on earth is going on...”
The question in the open letter, thrown into the air, returned to me like a boomerang and pierced deep into a place deep in my heart.
As I looked at the clock ticking by overhead, it was already almost 8 o'clock.
After I finished reading the pink notebook.
I left the house with a notebook in my hand.
As soon as I opened the front door, I felt the cold winter air rushing straight into my body.
He stirred my emotions.
“...I still have no idea what’s going on.”
Every time I spoke a word, white breath came out of my mouth.
I went to school on the same bus with the same number and appearance as described in the pink notebook.
Perhaps because it was rush hour, the bus was crowded, and there were countless students wearing the same uniform as me.
I cautiously followed the group of students getting off the bus, not knowing their proper destination.
“Hey, Kim Yeo-ju-.”
A female student who had been walking alone behind the group sensed my presence and turned around to run towards me.
She was probably a girl I was close with.
“Park So-yeon, is that right?”
“Yeah! You called me Park So-yoon yesterday, but you got it right today.”
Soyeon, who was playfully laughing and ruffling my hair, asked me a question instead.
“Do you know about me?”
There was a hidden meaning to this question.
The secret, not the boring information like name or age.
About my disability.
"Don't worry. Only I know. Do you know how hard it is to reassure Kim Yeo-ju every morning?"
"sorry."
I don't know what I'm sorry about, but I feel a strange sense of guilt.
“What did you do wrong?”
“You said it was hard.”
“Just kidding.”
After the short conversations ended, only silence flowed.
I didn't even remember the front door of the classroom.
Everything was unfamiliar.
I closed my eyes tightly and opened the door, and there were several children there.
Now, I fit the children written in the notebook together like a puzzle.
I glanced around the classroom.
Since I was sitting by the window, the sunlight was coming in nicely and I was starting to feel tired.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, someone tapped my back a couple of times.
"huh?"
“You know, can you answer what I said yesterday?”
If it was ‘what I said yesterday’, then of course I couldn’t remember.
I quickly skimmed through what was written in my notebook.
If the notebook says it all, the boy who spoke to me was named ‘Jeon Jungkook’, and what he said yesterday was a confession.
“Oh, if you haven’t thought of it yet, please stay in the classroom for a bit after school.”
Whether I choose to make a choice for my future self, my past self, or my present self is all up to the ‘me’ of the various personalities.