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Dinosaur
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Pattern
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Universe
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Reading Yun Dong-ju’s The Self-Portrait: 'The Poet’s Well
A person does not grow in stagnant waters. Growth comes not from staying still but from the relentless interference of new things. Yet, at some point, one must sever all ties and stand alone. Whether they were allies or adversaries, whether they shaped me or defined me, I must let them go. Even if that means breaking away from the one who brought me into this world. Even if that means breaking away from myself. Only then can I truly grow.
Just as spring fades into autumn, those who once stood beside me fall away one by one, like leaves drifting to the ground. Lone wolf.
In the end, life is lived alone. That’s what they say. But it only becomes real when I find myself standing in solitude. I am like Adam and Eve, cast out of paradise and abandoned in the wild. I gather fallen leaves, hastily crafting a mask to cover myself. Because my bare self—my real self—is unbearable to look at. Embarrassingly flawed.
And so, we call ourselves outcasts. The masks we created to hide begin to consume us, growing so large that we forget where our true selves even exist. In the pursuit of greatness, I begin to despise being myself. The roles have reversed. The singularity approaches. And yet, it feels oddly comforting, as if this was always meant to be.
But is this really a happy life? Is this truly love? No matter how I look at it, there’s nothing hopeful about it. The mask must come off. I have to walk this cold, damp, and miserable path to the very end before I can see the light. And I believe—without a shadow of doubt—
That when the light finally envelops me, when I turn back to look at the road I’ve traveled, those who once cheered for me from the darkness will reveal themselves at last. And as they watch me, having endured it all, they will smile with quiet satisfaction.