Skip to main content

Busan: Mioseon hates me


Shinsegae 

I saw her today at half past five. She was beautiful as always, wore the classiest getup I've ever seen her sport, and she was walking towards the tube station heading towards somewhere. This was my opportunity to try to speak to her for probably the last time, but when she caught a glimpse of me walking towards her, she just dashed madly towards the first taxi she saw. 

There is no end to this pain, I reckon. She's never interested in wanting to explain why it has come to this. 

By the time she was about to come home at around eleven at night, she probably asked her father to fetch her and he eventually caught on me, like I was some kind of a criminal. I walked away not wanting any commotion and they met and went home soundly. 

Why can't these people just understand my misery? I need answers to move on. I need help the only way I know how. 

She's probably moved on farther than I have ever been. Safe in the arms of someone else's joy. My joy is tucked beneath the madness and suffering of those that have found true love and lost it. My life will never bear meaning as much as it did with the time I spent with Mioseon Park. I don't know if there ever will be a time for reconciliation and understanding. Or if I get another chance. All I know is that I'm running out of time. Three months in South Korea has been an extremely hostile experience for me. One that will always scar me for the rest of my life.

And I am excited to come back here one day hoping to turn what once was shit to gold. 

Popular posts from this blog

Unprayer

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…

Me: At ease, the worst of the worst has yet to come

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains.
Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so.
She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking up pat…