Cursed Bunny

“It is no sin to make and sell good spirits. But for the alleged crimes of not being connected to powerful people, for not having the capital to make such connections, an entire family was smashed to pieces and its remains scattered to the winds.”

“I mean, that’s life,” the older woman went on to say. “And life goes on. Think of the child in your belly. Live only for the child. It’s not easy raising a kid alone these days, but you’ve got to be strong and keep living your life! Children grow up so fast. Mark my words, today will seem like a distant memory soon enough …”

“Eh, that’s nothing. Just leave it alone. It’s not like it crawls out of there at night and lays eggs around the house.”

The inflammation and constipation never really went away.

“My body was created with the things you dumped down the toilet, like your fallen-out hair and feces and toilet paper you used to wipe your behind.”

Parents who destroy their children’s lives, who suck the life out of their children’s futures, not only for the sake of maintaining their own illusions but also to zealously expand them into the lives of their children—such parents can almost be understood from the perspective of obsession. Following the words “Be grateful I raised you” is the implied clause “instead of killing you or leaving you for dead.” They probably mean it, too. My parents and their parents’ generations, after surviving the Korean War, had always, just like the generation that survived World War II, set their purpose not to live a human life but to have an animal’s instinct for survival.

“I wonder why they can’t leave those terrible times behind. Whether in life or death.”

“Trauma. Probably.”

… If I could make a wish

I want to be just a little happier
If I become too happy

I will miss sadness

I didn’t believe I’d ever be back. As much as I loved the place, life doesn’t give such opportunities so readily, and I couldn’t continue this state of hovering between reality and unreality forever.

That was probably why, when he suggested we go to his apartment, I accepted.

… If I could make a wish

I wouldn’t know what to say
What should I wish for

Bad times or good times …

This love story is for you

This was an escape. Tired, yes, and in pain, but he was free. Which was why even though he didn’t know where he was going, he rushed toward it.