The title is what I wrote while on the bus to god-knows-where on a random Sunday.
Years ago in 2018, while in Suwon as an exchange student, everything felt so foreign. I understood enough of the language to comprehend what was going on, but it was unfamiliar enough to constantly remind me that I am in another country temporarily, and that this would all come to an end & be replaced by familiarity.
After 2 decades of sweltering heat, the cold weather was both welcoming and off-putting. The heatwave before rainfall was replaced by biting winds, and the Latin alphabet was now lines and shapes that I could just barely make out. I think, had it not been for my friend rooming with me & the countless other friends from home going on exchange at the same time, I probably would have bought a return flight sooner.
Now in 2025, everything's oddly familiar. I understand conversations, I know good cafes and bad neighbourhoods. I have a home, where the silence is filled by meows & "beatboxing" that signals the fatman has decided to return his dinner.
This is my home. I am living the expat life, achieving total independence and breaking free from a routine life in which I spent some of it operating semi-consciously. Same shit, different day.
But what I thought at first was newfound familiarity now merely feels like the development of yet another routine.
A fellow Southeast Asian girl in my immigrant integration class said this to the teacher:
"The good thing about Korea is the seasons. When the seasons change, you feel a sense of time passing. When it's the same season all year round, you don't really feel like you're moving forward."
The teacher agreed, but not before being in awe of the revelation. Having lived in Bangladesh for 2 years, she seemed to put 2 and 2 together and said, "you're right, the passage of time is really less obvious when every day is the same."
They're right. When I dug my padding out from the luggage, I realised that I'd officially spent a year in Seoul. 4 December 2023 was the first day at Seoul National University, while 4 December 2024 was just another day at work. But I'd made it to a year.
But somehow still, I felt nothing.
I'm so used to being a high achiever that this was not even considered one. A year is nothing, ten is when to celebrate.
By this point at work, the team had been reshuffled and our Global team had been reduced to Korea 2.0 team. Nothing I said was being heard, and I was nothing more than a glorified translator slash factory. But I couldn't quit, because of so many reasons I can't be bothered to list.
And so began the descent into my own personal hell. Every day, day in day out, the same thing. My expertise was reduced to a baseless suggestion that would be promptly ignored. People who pitied me for suffering alone would effectively do close to nothing to alleviate it. And if they wanted to, they couldn't. Pains of being a corporate small fry. The working culture? What culture? This was an old-school kkondae (꼰대) company disguised as a young one with an average age of 25-35.
Don't even get me started on the hierarchy bullshit.
But eventually I'm back to the mundane life, as expected. I don't say this lightly because I want to try to be more positive, but it's hard to be positive when unqualified/under-qualified people go on a power trip and run you into the ground. The same people who tell others that you do overtime "out of habit" rather than because your workload has tripled since that same person ran your two other teammates off the team. Routine becomes a form of self-preservation, because if anything else goes wrong, at least your daily responsibilities stay the same.
I'm completely and utterly alone, and that is the one thing I never want. To the point where I ask during the job interview if I would be working with someone else. My ability to do my job well is being taken advantage of because, had I been someone unqualified and mistake-prone myself, would they have been able to leave me alone? Oh, how I wish I had someone on my side. 내 편.
I don't say this to be egoistic, but I'm being punished for my abilities. Good work punished with more work. Creative energy burnt up as supplemental fuel for mundanity. Blink and there's 10 Slack messages from 6 people asking you for something. Instead of a promotion, I get meaningless explanations to why I can't get one.
When all's said and done and I clock out, it's late in the day. I'm too tired to meet friends, but at the same time, I want to meet friends. I want to laugh with them in our favourite cafe. Or, a hug from my lover. The first one I don't have much time for, and the second one I just don't have. I love my friends, but I can't and won't expect them to drop their life for me. As for the lack of love in my life, well, pressure to find it just constantly mounts on my already aching shoulders.
Doing the same thing everyday makes me wonder what is there to really live for. Can't shop, no money. Can't eat too much, weight gain. Can't do (thing) because of (consequence). So all I can do is doomscroll on TikTok, watching videos of When Life Gives You Tangerines, and wish someone would whisk me away, hug me in our most vulnerable moment, and know that everything will be okay. SO cliché, but so necessary.
I think I'm starting to go off-tangent. But falling into routine while feeling foreign (no pun intended) & out-of-place is something I'm still trying to navigate. Boring, but on difficult mode. Aiya, I honestly wish I could catch a break, but at this point all I can do is tahan and try to find joy somewhere.
