Summer, and the Day You Left

translation:Chat GPT

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I opened my heavy eyelids after an all-nighter. The sharp summer sunlight covered my body. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my phone on the bedside table buzzed slightly. It was a mundane vibration, like something that just happens as a matter of course. A LINE notification. It was from her. "I want to break up," it read. That single phrase burned my chest like ultraviolet rays scorching the skin.

For the past few days, I had been waiting for her delayed replies. I was constantly worried. Maybe she was going to bring up breaking up, or maybe she would never speak to me again. Either way, I was anxious.

When I asked for the reason, she sent a long message, something I'd never seen from her before. She must have worked hard to write it. The content was about how she had become busy and felt burdened by making time for someone as lonely as me. I read it carefully and replied, asking her to reconsider.

I waited for her reply while watching a stream. It was a form of escapism. Usually, I distract myself with books or games, but this time, that wasn't enough. On the stream, an entertainer was engrossed in doing what they loved. There were viewers laughing and enjoying it. Watching these people gather and converse brought a sense of peace to my heart. That's the good thing about streaming. People overcome loneliness like this.

The stream helped me distract myself from the loneliness that struck right after the breakup. I suddenly thought about what relationships were like before the internet. When people exchanged letters instead of LINE messages. Each exchange was like a long game of catch. Depending on the distance, it would take time to get a reply, and if you were heartbroken, replies might never come. There was nothing like streaming to distract you—how cruel that must have been. I'm grateful. In this era, for better or worse, it's easy to connect with people.

Then, within two or three hours, I received a reply. The notification said, "I hope you understand, as it was a conclusion I reached after much deliberation."

After a short while, I replied, saying that I understood her point, that I hadn't spent as much time deliberating, that I was very confused, and that I wanted to remain friends. She responded with, "I understand," "Thank you," and "I'm sorry." I marked it as read and ended the conversation.

The next day, I was in the depths of despair. I wanted to stay in bed, but I felt like I would rot if I did. So, I went out for a walk. The usual distance felt long, like I was on a journey.

As I walked, I thought about her. She was a good person. She was so good that I felt she was too good for me. Why did she like someone like me?

Why? I don't think I had many opportunities to really get to know her. Of course, I made efforts to understand her, but it wasn't enough. Or maybe I wasn't given the chance. Or maybe she was avoiding it. We were together for half a year, but the amount I learned about her wasn't enough to sustain our relationship. That much I knew.

From the beginning of our relationship, I tried to ask her about herself, but she often deflected. She wanted a relationship where we would gradually get to know each other over time. I couldn't meet that expectation of hers.

After the breakup, I found myself even more confused. Should I have been more perceptive? Probably. But how should I have been perceptive? How should I have understood? These thoughts led to frustration.

I faintly hoped she would reach out and say, "I've reconsidered and regret it, let's get back together," but that never happened. Instead, my mother's words echoed in my mind, "People call that compatibility."

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