I think about those who are suffering or dying from vaccine side effects. Those who are in so much pain that they can’t do anything, taken to the emergency room, spending thousands only to be told there’s nothing wrong. I think about those who suddenly died from a single shot, and the families they left behind. Then, when I see psychopaths saying, “I’m fine, why is everyone making a fuss?” I pray that they too will experience serious side effects, but then I shake my head, thinking I shouldn’t wish such things.
I think about the countless people in their teens, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s who have lost their jobs due to the economic downturn caused by forced lockdowns, now worrying about their next meal. The younger they are, the harder it is; the older they are, the more heartbreaking it is. I think about their voices, whispering “I want to die” as they drink two bottles of cheap soju bought for 3 dollars. Then, when I see crowded department stores and luxury boutiques, I feel like I’ve bitten into a bug. After spitting it out, I realize we’re all on a train speeding toward a cliff.
I often think about my Facebook friends who post pictures of their solo meals. Those who are busy, living alone in a foreign place, or don’t have anyone to eat with, so they end up eating alone and feel like posting a picture. I want to tell them: Don’t think you’re lonely, don’t be anxious about the future. None of that matters. Eating alone doesn’t mean you have nothing to show for yourself, and it doesn’t diminish your worth. No matter where you are or what you do, the meaning of life depends solely on how clean your conscience is.
I think about my family, relatives, and friends who still haven’t realized what truly matters in life. From a bachelor living on a 2,000 dollars salary to doctors and lawyers driving Porsches, I realize their complaints are all the same. They’re stressed about losing money they could have earned, angry at being betrayed by someone they helped for money, anxious and impatient about needing to earn more for the future, and furious at a less capable friend who’s making a fortune.
Friend A says they’d live worry-free if they had as much as Friend B, Friend B says they’d be content with as much as Friend C, but they don’t know Friend C constantly complains to me about money. I lost all interest in the materialistic world about two years ago and washed my hands of it, so they feel more comfortable venting to me. One or two of them call me whenever they’re stressed. They say talking to me calms them down. Even though they haven’t opened the Bible I gifted them a year ago, I’m grateful and relieved for them. Not everyone close to me takes my words seriously.
I pray that a moderate trial comes to all of them soon, shattering their hollow boasts about life. Only deep pain that cuts to the core can grow a person’s soul. And that pain must come from realizing one’s own existential flaws, sorrow, and emptiness, not from resentment toward others.
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