The Easy Hurt

I'm having one of those "not tonight Korea, I have a headache" moments. Everything is a fight.

The students don't listen.

I can't concentrate.

The teachers can't communicate.

The food smells like death.

To be honest, most days, I like the fight. It keeps me awake. In America, life was too easy. I was fat (in more ways than one). Convenience is a slow and happy killer. All we need to do is relax for long enough to mix with the dirt.

Put down roots.

Soak up the sun.

Never move again.

Today I wish I lived close to my sister. The sound of her voice would be like therapy. She understands me without hearing me speak. Don't know if there are other people like that in the world. I moved a world away from it. I don't even think I was happy when I lived near.

It's not you, it's me.

It's easier to be unknown most days. I'm a little bit famous in my city (my face is strange), but that's not what I mean by being known.

Everyone stares.

No one speaks.

It's easy without people. It's easy, but it hurts. It's when you're alone that you notice all the things that you could care about but shouldn't. Things like crowded buses, cranky coworkers, long work hours, persistent coughs, your Facebook account, and the time difference between Seoul and Los Angeles. Not to mention unapetizing elementary school cafeteria food.

Smells like death.

One of my favorite movies is about an Irish man who becomes a butler for an eccentric millionaire who keeps alligators in the house. I'll never forget one particular part of the movie. After his first day, the butler turns to the cook and asks "is it forever like this?"

"Like what?," she says, confused.

"Like this" is something I want to remember. I want to carry it with me until my dying day. Fight to stay alive. Remember what love is. It is, in fact, love that I want, and not the easy unknown. It is not envious or proud. It is not forever like this.

Dry For Too Long

There's a weird backward magnetism to rain. It draws everything in and away. I'm looking out at the petals of rain, drumming against my windows on the 4th floor of 해서 Elementary, and I can't help but think that the world within has become enchanted for the disturbance outside.

Colors seem brighter.

Noises louder.

I can hear the students talking as they trample carelessly by my door. They used to speak only as an exotic fog to which I had no clarity.

These days, it seems as though everything is coming into focus.

Took long enough.

Seems like it took just long enough.

The cold air draws the skin tight against my body, and the wind carries with it the scent of air that stood dry for too long. It smells warm.

It will be Halloween. Then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, but before that, I am going to see home again.

It's such a strange word, in a strange world, and I've been looking for it for longer than I should. It bares teeth, deep down in my soul, and I would fight to keep it alive. I don't now think that I would fit into the shape I held when I was near it. My body is swolen, soaked with a foriegn rain. My actions have accents that are drawn more from love than clarity. Will home take me back? Does love endure all things? Will the prophet find honor in his own town? Have I been struck by something otherworldly, and if she smiles back, should I chase her?

Come away with me.

I came into this world limping so that I could earn the right to run.