_{reference: vanellope von schweetz, wreck it ralph}

_{reference: me (okno)}

• keeping journals and scrapbooks

• taking candid photographs of friends and memorable moments

• collecting souvenirs, trinkets, and keepsakes with sentimental value

• coffee shops, bookstores, and peaceful places where he can relax

• working out at the gym to build his physique

  
  

dislikes:

• hospitals and research facilities

• losing personal belongings, especially his journals

• the phrase "don't you remember?" ^{_{(cuz he really don't)}}

• feeling helpless during a memory lapse

• pity or sympathy directed at him

  
  

hobbies:

• journaling and documenting daily life

• collecting polaroids and printing pictures

• making memory scrapbooks

• sketching places he wants to remember

• making trinket shelves with the trinkets he gets from anywhere ^{_{(he has one wall in his room dedicated for it)}}

fears:

• forgetting someone important to him ^{(especially family)}

• losing all of his journals and memory records

• becoming a danger to others because of his unstable power

• losing his sense of identity

• ^{_{[biggest fear]}} forgetting himself. that he has become a stranger in his own life.

̷i̷ ̷w̷̷a̷̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷f̷̷o̷̷o̷̷l̷, ̷b̷̷u̷̷t̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷n̷, ̷i̷ ̷w̷̷a̷̷s̷ ̷j̷̷u̷̷s̷̷t̷ ̷a̷ ̷c̷̷h̷̷i̷̷l̷̷d̷.

̷n̷̷o̷, ̷t̷̷h̷̷a̷̷t̷ ̷w̷̷a̷̷s̷ ̷n̷̷o̷̷t̷ ̷m̷̷y̷ ̷f̷̷a̷̷u̷̷l̷̷t̷.

̷i̷̷t̷ ̷r̷̷e̷̷a̷̷l̷̷l̷̷y̷ ̷w̷̷a̷̷s̷ ̷m̷̷y̷ ̷f̷̷a̷̷u̷̷l̷̷t̷.

̷w̷̷h̷̷y̷ ̷a̷̷m̷ ̷i̷ ̷l̷̷i̷̷k̷̷e̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷?

̷s̷̷o̷̷m̷̷e̷̷o̷̷n̷̷e̷, ̷p̷̷l̷̷e̷̷a̷̷s̷̷e̷, ̷e̷̷n̷̷d̷ ̷m̷̷y̷ ̷s̷̷u̷̷f̷̷f̷̷e̷̷r̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷...

Among the countless lives altered by the meteor, my little brother was one of them.

My name is Seok Yaebin, and Matthew is three years younger than me. To everyone else, his story begins with a meteor. To me, it begins with a birthday.

⤷ May 28, 2006.

The day Matthew was supposed to turn four.

Our hometown in Vancouver was filled with sunshine that afternoon. Family members crowded the house, relatives brought gifts, and everyone was busy preparing for the celebration. I remember hearing laughter from every corner of the yard. It should have been one of those memories that stayed warm forever.

Instead, it became the day that changed my brother's life.

While the adults were occupied entertaining guests, Matthew wandered away on his own. Nobody thought much of it. He had always been curious, always exploring places he wasn't supposed to.

Somewhere near a grassy field behind the party, he found a crystal fragment.

At the time, none of us knew what those crystals truly were. The meteor had only struck weeks earlier, and reports about its effects were still scattered and uncertain.

To a child, it probably looked enticing—a tiny glowing gem hidden in the grass that looked like a candy.

When Matthew found it, he picked it up.

And somehow, before anyone could stop him, he swallowed it.

No one saw it happen.

No one knew.

Not even me.

I regret every single thing about it.

But, who am I to blame? I was only 7 that time.

I was also ignorant.

The party continued as if nothing had changed.

But something had.

In the years that followed, I watched my brother become someone trapped between moments.

Before that day, Matthew's ability was harmless. He could occasionally skip short distances without meaning to, but it never caused any real concern. After the crystal entered his system, everything changed.

The skips became longer.

More frequent.

More dangerous.

Sometimes he would disappear from one room and reappear in another.

Sometimes objects moved without explanation.

Sometimes entire conversations vanished from his memory as if they had never happened.

I remember the fear in our parents' eyes whenever it happened. I remember how hard they tried to find answers. Hospitals became routine. Specialists came and went. Researchers studied him. Scientists ran tests.

For years, nobody could tell us what was wrong.

And all the while, Matthew continued losing pieces of himself.

The memory loss started small. Forgotten errands. Forgotten names. Forgotten promises.

Then it became birthdays he couldn't remember celebrating.

Vacations he couldn't remember taking.

Moments that mattered.

Moments that should have stayed.

As his older sister, there was nothing more painful than watching him smile through it.

Even now, I don't know if that's bravery or stubbornness.

Maybe both.

Years later, the truth finally emerged. Research surrounding the meteor revealed that exposure to its crystalline fragments could drastically alter a person's abilities, amplifying them while introducing dangerous side effects unique to each individual.

Everything pointed back to the fragment Matthew swallowed on his birthday.

His uncontrollable version of The Glitch.

His memory loss.

His exhaustion.

His disconnection from reality.

All of it traced back to that single moment.

That moment when I was an ignorant, 7 year old child.

Oh, the regret in my heart... The regret that I am feeling while I write this.

Until this day, my heart is heavy. I couldn't do anything to help my little brother. It was my responsibility as the older sister. I believe, my parents think so too.

When Vindicate Academy was established to monitor and educate individuals affected by the meteor, Matthew was admitted almost immediately. For the first time, he was surrounded by people who understood what he was experiencing—people whose powers had been warped by the same phenomenon.

I was relieved.

For years, our family had felt alone.

Now he finally had a place where he belonged.

Today, Matthew is a third-year student at Vindicate Academy. Most people know him as the cheerful one. The guy who jokes around. The one who always seems optimistic no matter what happens.

What they don't see are the journals.

The reminders.

The effort it takes for him to hold on to memories that most people never have to think twice about keeping.

Sometimes I wonder how much of our childhood he still remembers.

Sometimes I'm afraid to ask.

But despite everything he's lost, Matthew keeps moving forward.

He keeps making new memories.

Keeps making new friends.

Keeps choosing to smile.

And maybe that's what I'm proudest of.

Because even when The Glitch takes pieces of his past away, it has never managed to take away who he is.

i̷ ̴w̸a̵n̶t̸e̸d̴ ̷t̵o̴ ̸w̸r̷i̸t̷e̸ ̷t̸h̵i̷s̶ ̵f̴o̷r̵ ̸y̸o̵u̶,̶ ̶m̷a̴t̶t̵h̴e̵w̵,̷ ̷m̸y̸ ̸l̸i̶t̸t̶l̸e̷ ̷b̴r̸o̵t̷h̸e̶r̸.̷ ̵i̶ ̷l̶o̵v̸e̸ ̶y̸o̶u̸.̷ ̷p̵l̸e̴a̵s̶e̵ ̶d̴o̶n̵'̸t̸ ̸f̵o̶r̸g̸e̵t̶ ̷a̵b̵o̷u̴t̵ ̶m̶e̶.̴ ̸i̷ ̴w̶i̵l̵l̵ ̴c̴o̷n̵t̸i̴n̸u̵e̷ ̵t̷o̴ ̷s̶u̴p̷p̸o̴r̴t̷ ̷y̸o̶u̵ ̵f̴r̷o̶m̵ ̵a̷f̵a̸r̵ ̷w̷h̷i̶l̶e̶ ̸i̴ ̴d̴o̸ ̶m̴y̵ ̸b̷e̵s̵t̵ ̴a̶s̸ ̷w̶e̵l̷l̸.̸