I Cannot Live Like This

In my early twenties, I participated in student activism, advocated for minorities, and created what people called activist pamphlets. I am convinced it was the most miserable time of my life. There was no sense of fulfillment, only personal disadvantages, which made me very self-deprecating. The world around me didn’t improve, and I only felt resentment.

I didn’t think about getting a job and felt pathetic for twisting my life this way. I wondered if it was even possible to attend school peacefully when the dean or some professor knew me and harassed me. I got hurt dramatically from engaging in too many keyboard battles on Facebook. On a recruitment poster for new reporters at an independent media outlet where I worked, I wrote in a serious font, “Looking for those lacking life’s ups and downs,” and laughed with my team.

Looking back on why I lived like that, it wasn’t because I was convinced I could change the school or society. I just felt I would be doomed if I didn’t do something.

Is the community and world around me only this much? Is there anything I can do? If I don’t do something, I feel like there will be no good left in the world I live in. I feel like I will vanish within it. To be free from these thoughts, I had to willingly exist in the discomfort and gloom. I had to do something.

While browsing YouTube, I saw a past broadcast clip where author Yoo Si-min talked about why he participated in student movements. To quote, “Because I didn’t want to feel pathetic and cowardly about my way of life.” “It seemed too miserable to just go on like that, thinking I couldn’t win,” “Sometimes people do such things to protect themselves,” “No one criticizes you for not doing it,” “I did go through some hardships, but I didn’t think my life was pathetic.”

My struggle was smaller than resisting a military regime. I didn’t act with thoughts of how I would feel about my life later. It was much more short-sighted and thoughtless. But I also did such things to protect myself. Can I live like this now? No. No, I can’t.

—

I’ve been working on a single project for a year at the company where I work as a developer. It’s one of the most challenging and time-consuming tasks I’ve ever done.

To briefly explain, it’s like defusing a bomb. When the components and wires of a machine are tangled without order, I need to safely remove and organize specific parts to make them work with a better design. Recently, I’ve hit quite a wall. It feels too complex to control all the variables and problems. I felt overwhelmed by the situation. When I sat down at work in the morning, I often felt a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach.

A friend who changed jobs once said, “The best thing about changing jobs is that there’s no code I’ve written here,” and I was really envious. Starting something anew from a clean state, with all the problems or past mistakes gone, seems nice. It seems less painful.

But there, I firmly insisted that I couldn’t do that. I want to avoid leaving a situation where I can’t solve the problem. If I quit here? I can’t live like that. Is the problem I’m solving ultimately unsolvable by me? Then, I feel a strong urge to deny it with all my might. No. No, it’s not.

—

I must promise all this discomfort and continue to be unhappy to save myself. In other words, I must resist because I cannot live like this. The larger nation, society, group, my fate and abilities, everything real or conceptual, becomes the target of resistance.

Do not go gentle into that good night

(The End)