my mom always told me to smile, because I looked better that way.
I knew she meant well, but from the start I could tell that something was wrong. is, wrong.
my only reaction was that a smile is just a frown upside down.
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my parents trained me to be the perfect boy, son, husband—shaping me into that innocent religious man all Korean parents want.
they measured the space between my shoes when I took them off after school every day, and wouldn't settle for any less than 100% with the constant reminders to put my napkin on my lap, brush my teeth, shower every other day, wear dress clothes every time I was out, find a pretty woman and a job that pays well.
of course there's more, but what do I have to complain about?
they tried so hard with me, so where did they go wrong? by eight I knew how to fix my own necktie, and by ten I was the top violinist in twenty Busan districts.
what did they miss?
why am I like this? I know five languages and have all these meaningless medals from sports competitions I never wanted to go to, so where the hell is the problem?
is it because my front tooth is a little crooked? am I crooked?
🍒
"see that painting, jimin? the strokes are flawless, and create a beautiful picture. just like those strokes our methods to raise you are flawless; and soon you'll be, too,"
"you'll make a beautiful picture because of us, son,"
