Can I Too Live a Life I Want?

I was born in Jamsil, Seoul, right next to where the tallest building in South Korea now stands. However, I didn’t spend much time there. Around the age of three or four, my family moved to Gangdong-gu, not too far from Jamsil. My father was a banker, and I moved into an apartment in Gil-dong, Gangdong-gu, provided by the bank’s housing for its employees. That neighborhood was where I spent most of my childhood.

Counting on my fingers, it adds up to just about a decade. The last ten years seem to have flown by in the blink of an eye, yet those years from my childhood feel endlessly long. Perhaps the reason they seem so distant is the numerous times I moved. Living in rented apartments, I moved several times within the same neighborhood, often just to the next building over.

One time, after having lived in the same area for a while, my father got transferred to a different city, and I had to move to Suwon. This was my first time changing schools. Saying goodbye to my classmates the day before I left was bittersweet, and the next day, I was enrolling in a new school in Suwon. Like most kids my age, I quickly adapted to the new environment.

A year later, my father was transferred back to Seoul, and so I returned to my old school. Facing friends I thought I’d never see again was a surreal experience. It taught me an important lesson: never to make assumptions about the future because life is unpredictable. It also made me vow to be someone who leaves a good impression, knowing that any goodbye could lead to a reunion.

Throughout my school years, I wasn’t particularly noticeable among my peers. I was frail and shy, never smoked or drank, and had little interest in video games or even studying. Despite the chaotic moves, I tried to study when I could, reaching perhaps the top ten in my class at best.

When I was in the ninth grade, my family moved to Suji, Yongin, a developing new city at the time. My family finally moved into a house my family owned after living in rented apartments. I got an attic room for myself, which became my sanctuary for studying.

Transferring to a new middle school in Suji was an eye-opener. I quickly learned that ties were not popular here after being teased for wearing one. The school had a mix of students, including those displaced by the new development and others like me who had moved from Seoul. It felt like a jungle where survival of the fittest was the unwritten rule.

After witnessing a bullying incident at this new school, I realized the importance of laying low and focusing on my studies to avoid trouble. Miraculously, I managed to excel academically, ranking second in my class, a stark contrast to my performance in Seoul. This unexpected achievement showed me that in any group, extremes are often respected and feared. The toughest kid in school even asked me to mediate with teachers on their behalf, finding my academic focus something to be protected.

By high school, I was attending Geochang High School, a boarding school that emphasized open education. Its unique programs, like hunting rabbits in the orchard on the first snowfall, appealed to me. My time at Geochang High School, located in a typical rural village, was a significant change from my previous experiences.

Admission to Geochang High School was competitive, with the risk of having to repeat the entrance exam if one failed. Fortunately, I passed. Living in the dormitory, I shared a room with students from similar regions, fostering a sense of community among us. Looking back, my school days were marked by constant movement and adaptation, always meeting new people and facing new challenges.

These experiences made me reflect on what kind of life I want to lead and the kind of person I want to become. I hope to find answers to these questions someday, defining a life I truly desire to live.