How long can a good person stay good?

My mother’s hope, my aunt’s dream. Women whose bridges of life are broken, using the lives of others as crutches. I don’t want to say it coldly, but looking back on my life, I was just someone’s crutch. Because I loved, because I was good, because we were family.

Days when beautiful words didn’t feel beautiful at all. And in the winter before entering my senior year of high school, my only neighborhood friend, Kang Eui-joo, also left my side.

On the day of that child’s funeral,

“Here to pay your respects?”

I met his older brother. A voice, ground out, low and sinister, echoed in the unlit space.

“You’re Yang Ji-eon.”

It was shocking that the man knew my name.

“Want to grab a bite?”

That’s why I entered that funeral hall as if possessed by something.

After the funeral, I continued a strange form of mourning with him, and then,

“Yang Ji-eon.”

“Yes.”

“Take it easy. I’m already embarrassed enough.”

The moment my life stopped being someone’s crutch, I ran away from him as if fleeing.

But unlike before, even though my life was able to stand on its own, I felt like the past connection was chasing after me with wide, staring eyes.

Even on the day I entered university, when walking down unlit alleys, when talking with a new friend on the bus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

“If you’re unnecessarily good, you become the perpetrator even when you’re the victim. Funny, isn’t it? Just like you did to me, even things that are only good can turn out that way.”

And then, Kang Eui-joo’s older brother, Kang Eui-tae, whom I met again as if by chance.

I can’t guarantee that my life, standing entirely on its own, is truly better than when it was a crutch.

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