As a young child, things are blurred in happiness. In blissful ignorance, where worries don't exist. Our smiles, the taste of ice-cream. Cool and refreshing. Our eyes as bright as the sun gleaming on us in everyday life. Our small bodies racing to reach the edge of glory and imagination.
The only aspiration of a child is pleasing your parents. Something that came easy. Something that seemed to come with no costs to spare. No endless sorrow of regret. And the whimsical, mischievous behavior that becomes long forgotten.
I often wonder how I ever got to this point, standing upon the ledge of the Banpo Bridge as the Han River beckons me. A thermos of crushed sleeping pills in my left hand of which I grasp with utmost fear; the afterlife. The afterlife is such a crucial yet touchy subject. A debate humans change different colours to.
It's something our ancestors perspectives differ in every culture. Whether it be religion or realism.
Either way, something happens. Either we cease to exist; that it's all over, reincarnation, karma, heaven or hell and etc. All I know is, this life I'm living is hard. It is HARD. It's difficult. There's no hope for me.
I'm broke, trying to pay the debt left behind by my ancestors many years before me or my mother's time. I'm endlessly hounded and even chased by loan sharks to the point where moving to a different area of Korea is almost like a every two day tradition.
I have no one by my side any longer. My mother's sickly and in just a matter of months her breaths will cease. Her kimchi breath will no longer engulf my nostrils. Her raspy voice from yelling will be nothing but a wisp of air caressing my wet, tear stained cheeks.
My jaw clenches and I close my eyes. Holding in the river of my soul and my heart. I open my mouth and tip my head back, pouring six months worth of expired and non-expired sleeping pills down my throat. Marveling in the taste of chai tea, the last thing I'll devour in this life.
As I right my head, dizziness and grogginess almost instantly pumps through my veins. My vision of the moon forms into a blurred two moons. There's almost a shift in the weather. I was once warm but now, I'm cold. Extremely cold.
My breaths are even. Yet, I feel like I'm suffocating inside my thoughts. The cascaded thoughts, window-framed through touches, lights and actions. It's all scattered into small ice puddles that fade in and out. Whispering from ear to ear negative and positive influence.
I then notice the sky grows even darker till it becomes black. It feels as if a rush is flowing from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Common sense pressed its lips on my right temple. I realize my eyes have closed and my body is falling off the bridge.
A small sigh gave out and I felt the unconsciousness take me.
My last remaining thoughts lingered around the woman I had yet to love and allow the flower to bloom.
For the living know that they will die,
but the dead know nothing;
they have no further reward,
and even their name is forgotten.
Their love, their hate
and their jealousy have long since vanished;
never again will they have a part
in anything that happens under the sun.
The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.
Moreover, no one knows when their hour will come:
As fish are caught in a cruel net,
or birds are taken in a snare,
so people are trapped by evil times
that fall unexpectedly upon them.
Ecclesiastes 9:5-6; 11b - 12
YOU ARE READING
Saranghae Catherine
Storie d'amoreDavid Park's life hasn't been sweet and sour. Its just been all bitter and vinegar. With an enormous debt that seems impossible to pay off, his mother on her way to the grave and his first love no longer in reach, how can he cope? What point is ther...
