Everyday, if you know, all different days
I was always struggling because I wasn’t loved. As a child, the unexpressed parental love was not mine. It was strange that my mother had a name. ‘Mom is just a mother… .’ My mother was a person who cooked rice, did the laundry, and cleaned up. I knew and became a mother. To prepare rice, you have to look at the market first, and even if you have a washing machine, it is up to people to put the laundry in and open it, and the messy house does not clean up by itself. I didn’t know at the time that it was all love. When the daughter cried, “Mom is a mother, you can’t do that.” When she cried, “It’s not perfect because it’s my first time, too.” The mother is also one person. The love that humans make to humans, like I am, is always poor.
“What do you want to say to yourself as a child?” he asked. One woman patted herself saying that it must have been cold and that she grew up well. At the moment, the weight of that life was transmitted to me intact and my eyes were cold. Like that, I approached ‘I’m young’ and said, “It was difficult. When you can say, “You are still grown up,” we become adults. As Kafka said, everyday is the only life we have. Going to work, going to school, preparing meals, and doing the laundry are all different days. Some cry hard and sometimes laugh in happiness. “You are the noblest person who has kept the routine.” I said with all my heart.
As we talked about the family, one man said. “I remember my sister in America. It will be very difficult in other places. I see my younger brother sometimes, but after a word or two, it’s awkward.” Actually, he said it was love, and although he couldn’t express it, he said it was love. Knowing is fast and life is slow. If you can live as exposed as you know, your life will be a little less bleak. Fortunately, it is slow, but love is love, that it will be passed on someday.
When I recall my childhood, I was vague and sad, as if there was a thick fog. I knew while raising a child. The pain that I thought was my own was actually normal. Second, I hate Wednesdays when I have special sports activities. The night before, I fell asleep crying that the snake was scared, and I woke up in the morning and said that I would not go to kindergarten because of physical education. The snake comforted the child because it was a fake, so it was okay, and it was time to get stronger. The child opened his mouth after a while. “I’m afraid I’ll lose.” I thought the life of a six-year-old was not easy. How is the life of an adult running like a war every day? Our daily lives are swearing for no reason, being fingered without knowing, and still having to keep their place in order to eat and live.
An essay is a wandering article. ‘You can’t do that. Do it like this.’ It’s not like a self-help book that you teach. Everyone has pains, big and small, and lives by asking without knowing. As I write an essay, I show my shortcomings and pain that I could not easily say. In a seemingly plausible life, in fact, I reach out that there is such anger and sadness, and it’s not just you. Say that you are a very good person and that you are doing well. It’s hard and lonely, but we endure that way again.