Alright, hear me out. I was truly unhappy with my life, feeling like it was all a bit unfair that I never got a second chance to change the choices I'd made. I regretted them every day, but I never admitted it—not even to myself. I never worked hard for my future, constantly living in the past, unable to see that I was ruining my present self.
I wasn't disabled, nor was I blind, but I was a bit depressed. This mundane life held no excitement for me. Up until high school, I believed I would conquer everything I wanted and be happy forever. But the worst part about adulthood is that it hits you so hard that some people just can't handle it. My personal life was a mess; I barely paid attention to my career. I wasn't bad-looking—in fact, people often told me I should work as a model instead of wasting away in a corporate job as a game developer. I had brown eyes, stood 5'11" with dark hair, and worked out regularly because it was the only thing that kept me going during my worst times. I started working out after being influenced by social media. It was crazy to see people getting famous for nothing, while I had no goals and just wanted two seconds of fame. It wasn't long before my workout videos and shirtless pictures inflated my ego a bit.
I thought I was a mature person, in every sense, but I was easily influenced by many things. I used to date a lot in my teenage years, but after graduating from college, I lost all faith in relationships and stopped dating altogether. I convinced myself that I wouldn't do it anymore, but, as I said, I was just that dumb. I would chase random girls, get disappointed, and repeat the cycle endlessly. For me, love meant finding someone mature enough to understand my moods, who wouldn't laugh them off, and who would ask about my issues and give me her time. I would do the same for her. I was a hopeless romantic with an introverted personality who wouldn't go out of his way to search for a girl.
Let me tell you about an incident. There was a girl named Nami at my workplace. We used to talk regularly, and she would flirt with me all the time. One time, during an outing, she got a little drunk and, in that melancholic mood, she even confessed her feelings to me. But I'm not a very expressive person, so I didn't think much of it. She was clearly embarrassed when I saw her the next morning on the bus ride home. I don't know why this scene is flashing through my head in my final moments.
I tried talking to her, convinced her to join the same team I was in, and we started chatting regularly. I convinced myself that this might be it for me. For someone who hadn't dated since college, it seemed like the perfect chance to dive in. One night, I got drunk and called her, confessing everything.
"Hey, do you have something to say to me?" I asked.
"No, what would that be? Are you drunk? It's midnight. Why are you calling at such a time? You should go to sleep," she replied.
"You said you liked going out. Do you want to go see a movie?"
"Right now? It's really late. No, I don't think so."
"Okay then, is there something you want to say to me? Hehe."
"Why do you keep laughing? Haha, no, I don't have anything. Please stop asking like this. If you have something to say, just say it."
"No, I don't have anything. But if you do, say it now, or I won't talk to you."
I was such a wimp that I couldn't even ask her as a sober, normal person. The next morning, as I sobered up, I remembered every detail of that conversation. I deleted her contact and blocked her on social media, all while I was still drunk. She met me at the office and said, "Haha, last night was crazy. Are you a lunatic? Why did you drink so much?"
I got friend-zoned by a girl who was initially interested in me. I was embarrassed, and my life fell back into the same routine. I stopped trying—stopped trying at anything. This was the incident that flashed before my eyes in my final moments. Regretting the choices I'd made, I lay drunk on my daybed with a bottle of Ki One Eagle whiskey from a distillery in Namyangju in my hand.
But what is this? Why is there so much noise even after I died? "Hey, look at this punk. He's sleeping in class. Is he a new student?" A child with crooked teeth and rectangular glasses was tapping on my shoulder. Sunlight streamed onto my desk, where I was sleeping under what seemed to be a school bag in a classroom. I rubbed my eyes.
"Oh, fuck, what is this light? It's burning my eyes. It was night just a moment ago."
"Yo! Did you just curse in front of the teacher? You're screwed. What is wrong with you?" the same child replied.
It took me a moment to realize that somehow, I had gone back to my past. But how? And why am I here? These were the thoughts lingering in my head.