It's by no means an understatement when I say that the past two weeks have been an utterly lifechanging experience for me. I've always adored film festivals, but none have ever felt as alive and spontaneous as Cannes has been. Each and every day was such a mess and yet so perfect. Getting to meet other amazing film enthusiasts, clapping at every succedent studio logo before the film starts, le mistral in your hair with the Mediterranean sun hitting the nape of your neck, having one drink too many after screenings and finding yourself on the beach at 3AM. Every little part of it was completely beautiful and raw that there were so many moments where I felt so happy I might burst into tears. (And maybe I did find myself crying at the night beach while everyone else in my group was drunk out of their minds.)

Being the token sentimental one in a room filled with people is not for the weak. There are so many moments where I feel as though I have to hold my tongue and swallow my thoughts deep down, from fear of having my most vulnerable self being exposed like a fresh cut. And eventually, they'll resurface, reaching the point of regurgitation of word vomit as I've had one drink too many. And I'll start blabbering about my trauma, my love for cinema, my love for all those there with me in the moment. But alas, at the end of the day, I figure it shouldn't matter because this is my one single life that I'm only finally starting to live, and I'm halfway across the world with some beautiful fucking people. It's true; I loved every single person I've interacted with. And I won't step shy from that fact.

Which brings me to say that it's so interesting how learning about yourself is such an arduous, grueling process that will never end as long as you live. I think I've ended up having this discussion a few times, but when you're young, it's so difficult to understand yourself and to know how to get along with people. In all honesty, it feels difficult for me even at this point in my life. All the different types of personalities clashing, all the unforeseen circumstances crashing into your ego like harsh waves, everyone can always screw up. I live life trying to better myself and to love everyone, but sometimes it doesn't work out as I want it to. Just how is it that I've gone through so much and yet so little? All I can do is to try my best. I'll always struggle endlessly, but I'll keep trying endlessly. Parce que c'est ça la vie. Loving yourself, loving those in your life, loving the experiences, loving the arts.

Cannes has really reignited my passion for cinema these past few days. Like this is what we were made for! The arts are the basis for what makes us utterly human! Incessantly flawed, and yet so beautiful, always driving us with fervor and keeping us dreaming. The energy in these theaters were breathtaking. Being in the same packed room with so many others with a like-minded devotion for film and the arts was exhilarating. Discussing titles we've just seen together was so fucking amazing. I felt like a child resorting to simple language calling everything beautiful, amazing, cool, because I was so awestruck by the films that my lexicon had been wiped clean from my mind. But that was all okay, because it really was in fact beautiful, amazing and cool.

Yeah, I know this may sound utterly silly, but I'm completely in love with the lot of you. I'll be that sappy, overly emotional girl for the rest of my life and wear it like a badge, whatever. I absolutely adore you all. You've all made my first ever year at Cannes a truly special one and for that, you're all genuinely special people. See you all again next year, my loves! À plus tard, mes amours ♥️

My whole life I've been on a constant search trying to find the rush of adrenaline that is "happiness". Of course, I've realised long ago that true "happiness" comes in the form of small positive things throughout the day, but even after a while, some days started to feel so numb and dull, especially with all the physical pain i was experiencing on a daily basis. I've started to drink less, was more mindful of the physical and emotional harm I may be causing myself, and really trying to focus on my wellbeing. But maybe for me the problem was that I was only fixated on the highs, looking for what little excitement my daily life would bring. Running away from my past, I've started feeling aversion to taking big risks due to the fear that I would start self-sabotaging once more.

But honestly speaking, I am the person I am today because of all the moments I've experienced throughout my life. And I knew that, of course. All the pain, all the trauma, all the excitement, all the delusion, everything has shaped me to become the strange creature I now find myself to be. And life is an endless journey of self-discoveries. All these experiences mold me into a different form, and they force me to come to understanding even more about myself. Wanting to keep myself safe from self-sabotaging behavior is understandable, but I'm only stunting my growth from being too reserved. The worst moments have all passed by this point, and there truly is nothing the world can throw at me that will leave me as broken as I once have been. The risks have always been a part of me. The spontaneity, the truthfulness, the essence of life. And I need to learn to embody that part of myself once more.

Life is filled to the brim with such beautiful, exciting experiences no matter where you look. Even a person I didn't enjoy getting along with, a film that made me feel icky, a day that felt like everything was going wrong—without them, I wouldn't be me. I strive to be better for myself and for others through my experiences. I strive to teach and help others through their journeys with my knowledge. I strive to savor the sweeter moments even more, even the fleeting instants, particularly because of how exciting and special it will have been. I'll learn from my failures and sadness, because truly nobody can be a perfect person having the perfect life.

It feels as though I go on this same rant every once and again, but I'm in love with life. I think it's so important to live through life with a particular lust and childlike wonder for it. Feel every moment, the salty breeze in your hair, the smell of soil wet from the rain, click-clacking of your heels holding on for dear life against the concrete. People who share your loves and interests. People you can't stand to even be near. Films, photography, painting, writing, crafts. Creating art based on your feelings and your experiences. Having heated discussions. Small talk about the weather. Saying "I love you" on a one-night-stand and never seeing them again. Dying your hair on a whim. Chipping your fingernail and mindlessly touching it all day long. Making a new Instagram friend at the club bathroom. Blowing your nose at the cinema bathrooom after a sad film. Tripping over your shoelaces at the station. Hugging your friend goodbye after a party. Placing the needle on your favorite vinyl record. Falling asleep exhausted after touching yourself to completion. Getting a perfect photo of a stray cat in frame. Anything goes.

Riddled with sickness, I live to see myself add another year to the arbitrary concept that is my age. I wonder why I spend every birthday writhing in pain; it must be a curse that's surely been placed upon my name. Every year around this time of year I'm consumed with the obsessive belief that I must give more than I recieve, and I end up overexerting myself, unable to conserve my energy, vampires leeching off my sanity. But this, too, is my fate—until I change myself on my own terms, things won't be any different.

Though I've spent the majority of this month in anguish, I've had many moments where I felt like this is what makes life worth living. As much as I cherish my solitude, I am nothing if not for those around me. There's always something to look forward to, something new. Exhausted as I may be, the time spent with good company can never be replaced by anything else. I adore my silly friends, I love that I've met every single one of them in the most ridiculous of situations. The fact of the matter is, I've missed out on such a great part of my youth, my 青春. A part of me is okay with that, and another, much larger, part of me feels devastated that I'll never be able to get any of that precious time back. But I'm only here now, living all of these brand-new moments, because of all the things I've gone through. And if I feel injusticed by my circumstances, the best thing I can do is live. To live as hard as I can, feeling as happy as I can.

To be loved is to be changed. And in part, I think I've changed myself. And in that process, I've learned more about myself than others never will in a whole lifetime. I am myself because of myself, my circumstances, and those I choose to keep around me. I am myself because of love. I am changed because of love. I hate to be overly sappy when sober, but who cares? You never know what could happen at any moment. I'll show my utmost love to everyone that I can.

"God, I don't know if you exist, but if you do... you've got me pissed!"

Affection for those loved ones, passion for a craft, a fiery lust for life—all tethers, no matter how strong, seem to be met with the same fate in the end. It seems almost unjust how we're expected to graciously accept the fact that everything we love, everything we live for will one day be taken from us by force. Far too many times have I witnessed firsthand somebody in my life begrudgingly accept everything they’ve worked so hard for all shamble in their own hands. Death waits for no one. Not the middle school girl who tried so hard to make it all work. Not the father to three children fighting the voices in his head. Not the grandmother left with nothing after decades of labor. Not the girl about to start her new adult life in this harsh but exciting society.

If the world ended right now, at this exact moment, would I be fully content with the love I’ve given and experienced? Would I be able to say that I’ve given just as much as they have? Have I been intimate enough with life? Have I shown enough love to those that I care for? Have I enjoyed the little triumphs to the fullest? Have I been enough? Done enough? Am I happy with my life?

There is not a day in my life where I don’t think about how unfair it all is. Why is it that I have been “lucky” enough to keep enjoying the luxuries of life whilst the most beautiful souls I’ve known don’t have the opportunity to do so, not anymore? Why is it me, who pathetically thinks about how undeserving I am, far less so than they were? I can’t stop thinking about how none of my thoughts, my words, my paintings, will remain once I’m met with the same fate. I know painfully well that this is the whole point, and yet my mind wanders towards those cynical thoughts.

I love people. I love hearing them talk. I love recognizing different features on everyone that make them unique. I love seeing them act the same way in situations, no matter how different. I love seeing the beauty in everyone’s lives. It helps highlight the small joys in my own life.

I love cinema, I love literature, I love music, and I love the arts. I love these things because they make me cry. They make me miserable. They make me giddy like a child. They make me laugh like a loon. They make me feel emotions that let me perceive that I am alive, animate, organic.

I love taking walks. I love dying my hair. I love feeling the breeze. I love the smell of onions and garlic cooking. I love the little static zaps you get from touching your friends in the winter. I love laughing at the stupidest things with my friends. I love air conditioned buildings in the summer. I love leopard print tops. I love squeezing the living hell out of my big plush dolls. I love baking sourdough and making grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. I love the click clacking of my freshly done gel nails on my phone screen. I love extending my legs and feeling the muscles stretch out and relax. I love hugging people. I love having a sweet treat after a meal. I love spritzing my gourmand perfumes before I leave the house. I love looking back at old photos. I love karaoke. I love getting notifications from people I love. I love to love. I love being loved.

Many a time have I forgotten that this is actually the whole point. I know all too well that it all ends. Sometimes it all ends way too soon. Life speeds by in the blink of an eye. I don’t ever want to have regrets. I want to love with all my heart. I want to tell everyone I love that I cherish them. I want everyone to know my love for them at all times. I want to do things that make me happy. I want the people I love to be happy. I want to be happy. So I will love.

Have an amazing July, everyone. Tell the people in your life that you love them. Experience everything. Enjoy life.

How strange it is to be anything at all.

What is life, if not a cage specifically created to trap us into a rhythm that we falsely believe to be a product of our own free will? Has God forsaken me? Are we not all equal in the eyes of God as his children? Why must I be tortured to the end of days? My mind is filled with an endless number of questions that will never be answered. When left to my own devices the only thing I can do is try to keep myself from spiraling, overthinking, drowning in my anxiety. How painful it is to be conscious.

Endless hours have been spent with my hair greasy, pillowcase streaked with tears. At times it feels indiscernible whether I'm suffocating or if I'm just holding my own breath without noticing. How is it that I have spent twenty-something years on this plane of existence and I am still unable to move on from this pain? Every year I break down from the realization that I'm the same girl, broken, sullied, miserable. It seems as though everyone else moves on. The world moves so quickly. I'm stuck in one of those nighttime traffic timelapses where the lights trails from the vehicles draw speed lines all around me but I'm encaged within a large bubble floating above, where time seems to drag like swamp. I don't know whether yesterday was last month, if I've eaten dinner or if that was all within my head. I can't remember people i've met or things I've said but that time two years ago at 1AM where I bawled my eyes out in the forest soaking in the rain is still fresh in my mind.

Quite a short jumble of word salad this month, hope May went better for the rest of you. Have a great june :)

Welcome back to my monthly scheduled unsolicited oversharing session! Hope everyone's April was far more delightful than mine has been haha

I've found myself constantly crying and lashing out(mostly towards myself) during this past month. I've rarely cried in the last couple of months, so I don't know what exactly the trigger was. Bad things and stressful interactions always happen, but April's overall just been a trainwreck for me. Now that I think about it—April of last year was also an absolute catastrophe. I had finally gotten away from an emotionally abusive relationship, and yet I was overwhelmed with melancholia from anger, devastation, and many other negative emotions. I repeat to myself time and time again that all these feelings are a natural part of life, and they're what make me truly me. But when there're only destructive emotions both deep within and also being pushed out, I can't help but start to dislike the kind of person I'm being.

I keep wondering if I'm even ready to love or to be loved again yet. Though I long to have this noticeable emptiness in my heart filled, I can't decide if I'm fully recovered from my past pains. I've spent the past few months hung up on somebody who I know doesn't care for me, somebody who I know for certain isn't right for me. I think to myself, even if they liked me back, I'm far too unwell for anything to go right. And you'd be right if you said, "that's not a good way to think about yourself!" I know. And I also know I'm far better than the way I used to be in the past. My mind is prone to repeating toxic situations for myself, but I'm now in a position where I'm confident I'd be able to get myself out of that sort of spot. And yet, I'm still so afraid. I'm afraid of opening myself up. I'm afraid of having my identity rejected. I often hear from people that I seem like I'd be able to get anything done, but the truth is, I've always suffered with self-love and acceptance, and I've always been afraid of being disliked. It's not the pain that kills you, but instead the deep-rooted fears from childhood trauma!

Many a time have I had moments where I suddenly am transported back to a period from my past. I know that I have a deep connection with my olfactory sense relating with memories, but recently it hasn't been just that. Some days I will wake up in the morning with a dreadful pit in my stomach that reminds me of the summer of 2020. Other times I'll feel a sudden dull pang in my chest and the whole day I feel delirious, and all of a sudden I'm in the vulnerable state I was back in 2023. In those times, the air fills up my lungs in a different way, my head starts to feel numb, and I feel as though I'm lucid dreaming, having an out-of-body-experience, almost. Most of these days I try and force myself to sleep or grind through movies the entire day because I can't get myself even to open the bedroom door. And most of all, I feel afraid, vulnerable. It feels as though my mind has regressed as well back to that age.

Last week, for the first time in years, I had an immense panic attack in the shower that left me unconscious for over an hour and paralyzed for longer. I still don't know what exactly the cause was, but the entire night before it happened, I was overwhelmed with anxiety and shortness of breath, waking from my light sleep every two minutes or so. It was an incredibly jarring experience, as the last time this kind of thing had happened was when I was between 5-8 kilograms lighter.

I know I think about this often, but this month has had me really appreciating the existence of my best friend. September of 2016, our freshman year. He sat right behind me in geometry class and I harassed(?) him from the first day. We've experienced so many things, been through the toughest struggles, fought the hardest battles. Said hurtful words we won't ever be able to take back, did things we'll never forget. And despite all that's happened, we're still here. Both of us, on this earth. Both of us, loving and caring for one another. Saying anything that's on our minds. Without him, there are so many moments I wouldn't have been able to get through. Almost nine years of knowing each other, and I don't regret a thing (that's a lie, I might regret some of them). Thank you, and I love you !! We'll be as pathetic and deranged and hilarious and amazing as we want for the rest of eternity !!

I'm sorry this month's entry feels like it's only filled with negative things. Also for all the word slop (I'm still feeling a bit unwell both physically & mentally at the moment :/) but hey, fingers crossed, manifesting only good things for everyone and for myself in the glorious month of May. May all things sparkle brightly in your eyes, every step feel light. May only happiness find you all.

As the days turn (not-so) warm, the month of march finally comes to a close.

I oh so desperately yearn to be loved and to love. I long for the feeling of falling so deeply for somebody, wanting to do everything and anything possible for them. I desire to be wanted, to be somebody's muse, to be smothered with all the love I could ever wish for. And yet I am so afraid. I am deeply terrified to expose my heart, in all of its raw nakedness, unknowing if it might be wounded again. It's so much easier to keep it to myself, wishing upon others what I crave after, just so I wouldn't be hurt anymore. Perhaps in the future I might be able to take another chance, but alas, the time is not nigh.

I've spent a lot of time this month learning to live with myself and with my own feelings. Being alone with my thoughts, for the lengthier part of my life, has been so difficult and confusing. Just when situations seem to be changing for the better, something always happens to make my emotions go awry. Borderline personality disorder doesn't make it any easier. I'm constantly in a battle with my anxiety over the smallest shifts in others' actions and reactions towards me, and sometimes it feels like I'm sabotaging my own happiness. It may be a difficult pill to swallow, but I need to learn to regulate my own emotions and understand that, at times, things can just happen. not every little thing is a personal attack on me as a person, and not everybody is out to get me. Respecting and loving myself will get me to the places I want to go, and moreover, make others realise that they should treat me with care and respect. Life is always a learning process, and not every day will be perfect; but I will eventually reach a point where I should be content with myself, first and foremost, and also with others.

The relationship between death and me is so strange. I've struggled through countless bouts with depression, with no attempt ever successful at anything more than having me rushed to the emergency room. I've wished so dearly for the release from my struggles, and yet I've also never been more afraid of it. All the while it only manages to take so many of my loved ones instead.

The passing of my paternal grandmother had brought me an inexplicable amount of pain. The last I'd seen of her was two weeks prior. She'd been at the hospital for quite some time now, constantly in and out of intensive care. She was almost never in control of her own mind and body. I was supposed to visit her. I had another meaningless argument with my father and did not show up at the hospital. I went about my week as usual. On the morning of October 1st, 2023, my father burst into my bedroom, frantic, yelling at me to get in the car. I obliged. I threw on my sneakers, skipping the socks, waited ten excruciatingly long floors on the elevator, jumped in the car. What usually would've taken a thirty-minute drive took just over fifteen minutes. 180 kilometers per hour. My father was drinking at the wheel. We arrived. My grandmother had already passed. The sickening stench of the ICU only nauseated me even more.

I never thought that I would experience the same feeling as that day. But on the morning of Wednesday, March 26, 2025, I was once again just a child, fighting the urge to throw up, pit of anxiety and melancholia in my stomach. I couldn't breathe. Tears flowed down my face. I woke up feeling the worst I had in years and I didn't even understand why. I found out later that day, the mountain that she had been buried on was gone. Up in flames. And the person i had loved so dearly had died, not once, but twice.

As chilly as the weather is still, the warm spring breezes will soon come to warm my heart. As spring comes, I hope that everyone is able to see the flora blossoming all around them.

Wat an insane time this month has been. February's always a tough time for me. I'm always emotionally struggling through my birthday, just trying my best to get through it.

The ocean calms my nerves. I book a 3-hour bus ride at 5am, restless from lack of sleep. Despite my freezing fingers and cold cheeks, I feel the lulling call of the crashing waves inviting me to fall in and become one with it. I oft wonder, how would it feel to give into the temptation? Would it be a cold plunge, making me shake to my core, thrashing from the human nature to grasp for life at death's door? Or would it warm me throughout, a gentle caress comforting me, stripping me of my mortal pains? Of course, I would never throw myself into the water with the goal of drowning myself. Life is all too brilliant to give it up.

Life should be spontaneous and fun. What even is the point in life if my time on this plane of existence isn't enjoyable? Earlier this year i had a conversation with a certain individual trying to convince me that the point in life is to make sacrifices for the greater good, for the future generations, as our ancestors have done. There is some truth to that, I believe, I am indeed grateful for the opportunities we are blessed with in this day and age. I'm elated to be alive in this era, with our various technological advancements, medical and scientific breakthroughs, even just the fact that I have a roof over my head and meals to sustain me through the days. But I truly believe individual happiness needs to be prioritized in everyone. Sure, you can be truly "happy" working your ass off trying to make a better life for your children. But we're living in a time where we have that opportunity to prioritize ourselves. Isn't this what our older generations have worked so hard for? Life changes, values change, and the earth continues to turn endlessly. I will keep valuing my own personal happiness and the happinesses of those I care about, and try hard to make changes for my own beliefs. (This person also said that yes, war is inherently bad, but countless soldiers and civilians dying makes a difference so it is necessary. Some people's opinions are just invalid.)

In this month I've experienced so many emotions. anger, sadness, loneliness, happiness, confusion, exhaustion, peacefulness. through all the experiences and feelings, whether good or bad, I've been shaped into the person that i currently am. People are ever changing beings. I am not the same person that I was 8 years ago, 3 years ago, 6 months ago, hell, I'm probably not even the same person that I was when I started writing this blog entry. I'm not happy with the traumatizing, gut-wrenching experiences I've gone through, but I am grateful for them for they've molded me into the person that I am currently. Every heartbreaking breakup, every embarrassing public incident, every unnerving confrontation, even every little bruise and scar. The good makes you a happy person, but the bad makes you into someone that cherishes the good even more so than before. Emotions are so cruicial to experiencing human life. Every little tear spilled, brow furrowed, giggle escaped, makes life that much more precious and exciting. Emotions are what make you, you.

There is no inherent good and evil, and i don't believe humans are either by nature (There's no devil on one shoulder and angel on the other/They're just two normal people). Everyone is heavily influenced by their environment growing up, whether they process it positively or not. I am neither good nor evil, I solely just am. I strive to make choices that positively impact myself and those I care about, and I try to make my loved ones happy, but that doesn't make me a good person. It is mostly out of my own selfish desires to see myself and others thriving. But selfishness is also not inherent evil, only human nature. I accept my instinct to feel the selfishness, and act out my desires. That is okay. growing up, I was always made to feel that I was being selfish by making choices that felt right to me. In those times I often thought it unfair that society simultaneously made everything to be a competition, while also telling you that doing things that make you happy made you hard to love. And now, I understand that i was right. Not everything is a competition. Bad grades and performance evaluations aren't the end of the world. And prioritizing yourself is okay. You are living life for yourself. You need to be selfish. You still deserve to be loved.

I still struggle with not lingering on the past. I never let go completely, since all memories and nostalgia are part of me, and I try to accept the negative experiences as they are, but I still sometimes feel so much regret. I mourn. I hope that's okay. and I hope that the me in another universe isn't feeling all this regret.

Stepping into this 2025, I told myself this would be a year of understanding myself and healing. And most importantly, experiencing the hiccups and seeing them for what they are and accepting them. despite all the pain I experienced, this February has been an amazing time for me. I took a month off from work, which helped me to really sit with my emotions and dissect my thoughts. I was able to talk to my friends, various people, about the abstract concepts, letting me learn more about the world and about myself. Life is joyous but only if you let it be. It is never about the chasing after so-called happiness; it's finding small and big joys in day-to-day life and appreciating even the miniscule details. Watching films. Creating art. Trying a new recipe. stepping into a photobooth alone. Standing in the steaming shower even after I've finished all my washing. Listening to that one song on repeat. Doing makeup at 3am for fun. Solving crosswords with my best friend. It all adds up. I am a happy person living a happy life, and the unhappy things, albeit having shaped me, do not define me as a person. I choose to embody this kind of person, because it is who I believe myself to be. I love so many things, so many people, myself.

Happy belated birthday. I'm sure we'll have a delightful March together.

the sea, and the girl who longs for death

나는 삶에 지칠 때면 바다가 보고 싶다.

Whenever I get tired of living, I long to see the sea.

Regardless of the weather, gazing mindlessly into the roaring waves makes it feel as though all my deepest worries will be washed away along with them. On some days, I even want to dive into the ocean and feel the freezing water fill up my lungs. I want to see myself struggling for air as the oxygen supplying my heart gradually depletes. This isn't because I lack the will to live, but it's simply an impulsive thought. You might say I just want to see the most fundamental survival instinct a living thing can show.

날씨가 화창하든 흐리든 상관없이, 넋을 놓고 우렁찬 파도를 바라보고 있으면 깊은 근심이 다 사라질 것만 같다. 어떤 날들은 바닷속으로 뛰어들어 폐 전체에 차디찬 바닷물이 차오르는 것을 느끼고 싶기도 하다. 심장으로 보급될 산소가 차차 사라지며 삶의 의지를 느끼고자 발버둥치는 자신을 보고 싶다. 이건 삶에 대한 의지가 부족해서라기보단, 단지 그러고 싶다는 충동일 뿐이다. 그저 생물의 제일 근본적인 생존 본능을 드러내는 자신을 보고 싶다고나 할까.

And I wonder how those around me would react if I were to take my own life by jumping off a building. Would they feel immense pity and a sinking remorse? Or would it just be accepted easily as fact? I'm certain everyone would likely feel one of these briefly then sooner or later forget about me.

그리고 혹여나 내가 그렇게 투신자살을 하면 주변인들은 어떻게 반응할지 궁금하다. 그들은 몹시 안타까워하며 깊은 슬픔에 잠길까? 아니면 그럴 줄 알았다는 듯 쉽게 받아들일까? 누구든 잠시 동안 둘 중 하나의 감정을 느끼다가 곧 나에 대해 잊어버리겠지.

Of course, I'd never do such a silly thing.

물론, 내가 실제로 그런 짓을 할 일은 절대로 없을 것이다.

It's already been over seven months since I moved here, but unable to ever forget the brilliant blue seas I've loved as a child, I find myself travelling to the east coast yet again. Certainly it's nowhere near comparable to the Japanese waters I'd grown accustomed to, but I think it's quite decent for what this country offers (although the sea conditions can vary depending on the weather).

서해가 앞바다인 인천으로 이사 온 지 이제 7달이나 넘었지만, 어릴 적 보고 자란 푸른 바다를 잊지 못하여 늘 동해안으로 떠난다. 당연히 내게 익숙한 일본의 바다와 비교는 불가능하다만, 국내에선 꽤나 괜찮은 편(단지 날씨에 따라 바다 상태가 극단적이긴 하지만)이라 생각한다.

Death is such a silly concept. The closing of a chapter is as natural as a child starting its life. Nevertheless, it feels endlessly foolish to see childbirth as a miracle whilst death a desolate and sad event.

죽음이란 참 어리석은 개념이다. 생명의 끝은 아이가 태어나는 것처럼 너무나도 자연스러운 것이기 때문에. 그럼에도 출생은 아름다운 기적이지만, 죽음은 피폐하고 슬픈 것이라는 게 바보같이 느껴진다.

I have always thought that I'd want to end my life while I'm young, beautiful, and filled with love. I wish that everyone I knew during my time on this earth would gather at my funeral, experience grief for only a brief moment, then soon return to their daily lives, finding that spark once more. But that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with the idea of disappearing from their memories entirely. I want the people who knew me to think of me time and time again, speaking tenderly and favorably of me to the day they all return to ashes as well. Even if my body disintegrates quick, I wish for the memories of me to linger for as long as they can. I want to experience all the love I'd never felt in my lifetime, even if that's long after I'm gone.

늘 생각하는 바로는 나는 젊고 아름답고 사랑받을 때 생을 마감하고 싶다. 생전 알고 지냈던 사람들이 모두들 장례식에 모여, 아주 잠시 동안만 슬퍼하고, 바로 다시 웃으며 일상으로 복귀했으면 좋겠다. 그렇다고 바로 기억에서 사라져도 좋다 생각하는 건 아니다. 내가 알고 지낸 사람들이 다 사라질 때까지, 내 생각을 하고 나에 대해 호의적으로 얘기했으면 한다. 육체는 일찍 흐트러지더라도, 나에 대한 기억은 오랫동안 남았으면 좋겠다. 생전에 경험하지 못한 사랑도 다 언젠가는, 비록 그게 생을 마감한 후일지라도, 느껴보고 싶다.

The reasons I easily fall for cheap, tacky love are as follows:

1. I grew up experiencing a distorted version of love. And thus I often think that any kind of "love" would easily surpass what I'm used to.
2. My accomplishments in my childhood weren't enough to warrant recognition from my parents. I don't know how to act at the slightest praise or compliment. Just like with reason 1, I live my life craving for even a bit of affection.
3. There was an absence of love between my parents. I refuse to live like they have. I would rather choose death.
4. I have a victim complex. I'm constantly searching for my white knight, my prince in shining armor.
5. I feel deeply inferior when seeing others living my dreams, enriching their lives with love. Not necessarily to the extent of it feeling like an inferiority complex, but I feel as though I've been done wrong in life, miserable and heartbroken. I believe someone like me also deserves to recieve such love.

내가 싸구려 사랑에 쉽게 빠져드는 이유는 다음과 같다:

1. 나는 어릴 적 무척 왜곡된 사랑을 경험하며 자랐다. 그래서 어떤 사랑이든 그때보단 낫겠지, 라고 자주 생각하게 된다.
2. 나는 어릴 적 인정을 받지 못해 사소한 칭찬에도 미친 듯이 기뻐한다. 1번과 마찬가지로 어떤 칭찬이든 목메어 살아간다.
3. 부모님은 서로를 사랑하지 않았다. 그들처럼 살고 싶지는 않다. 나는 차라리 죽음을 택할 것이다.
4. 늘 피해자처럼 느끼며, 날 구원해 줄 이를 찾고 있다.
5. 사랑에 빠져 행복하게 사는 사람들을 보며 열등감을 느낀다. 열등감까지는 아니더라도 억울하고 서럽게 느껴진다. 나도 분명 그런 사랑을 받을 자격이 있다고 생각한다.