HYYH:The Notes

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon
17 December YEAR 21

People waiting for the first bus rubbed their hands together at the cold wind. I clutched the straps of my bag tightly and looked down to the ground. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. A country village only two buses stops at a day. The first was approaching from afar.

I followed after people and got on the bus. I didn't look back. When we're desperate for something, when we has grabbed hold of it and now the only thing left to do is escaping, there's one condition. To not look back. The moment we look back, all our efforts will go up in smoke. Looking back is doubting, is lingering attachment and fear. Only after we're over it can we truly escape.

The bus departed. I had no plan. I wasn't desperate for anything, not did I grab hold of it and was escaping. It was more like an impromptu getaway. A getaway from my mother's tired face, my sibling who's feeling lost, my father's illness. A getaway from my household situation that's getting more stressful over time, from my family who insist on sacrifice and peace, from myself who pretended like I knew nothing and resigned, striving to adapt myself, and most of all, from poverty.

If you ask if poverty is a crime, anyone would say it's not. But is it really not? Poverty eats away so many things. It makes what we used to treasure become nothing. It makes us give up what we could not. It makes us doubt, fear and resign.

Just few hours later, this bus will stop at a familiar stop. One year ago, I didn't leave any goodbye when I left this place. And now I'm coming back there without any omen or notice. My friends' faces came up in my mind. I cut contact with all of them. How have they been doing? Will they welcome me? Will we be able to gather and laugh like we used to? Outside, the landscape was rendered invisible by the frosty windows. I slowly moved my fingers above it.

"You must live on."