It started with that phone call on Sunday -- thinking about my past and the things I'd done. I was driving around Irvine today -- went to work, ran errands, and I was overwhelmed by my past life here. Not specific memories, but just the heavy feel of it. Driving by the Shell station, I remembered getting gas there with my mom. I've been wanting to call old friends to talk -- I feel so desperate to talk to someone about the old days. And when I got home, I was so depressed, so burdened down. I was wondering how anyone stays to live in the place she grew up in. I thought living far away is just another way to not deal with it, to drive around always guilt free because nothing reminds you of anything you don't really want to remember.

I was talking to someone tonight who's so lost and so hurt, and I see myself in him. Talking to him reminded me that I'm glad of what I've become and glad that it's all over. Not that I don't hurt or feel lost sometimes, but I've got ways to deal with that intensity that are healthy. If you've got a heart that sensitive, you need a protective layer of some sort. For some people it's God, for others it's rational thought. Thinking through things, understanding the consequences and implications -- that's how I keep myself sane. Don't get hung up on things I can't change, don't absorb all the world's sorrow all at once, don't think too much of myself. Know I'm a small piece, but an important one -- just like everyone else.

Some days, I don't know how I'm going to get through. But somehow I always do. I know I got some of my strength from mom. She forgave me everything. She labored all her life for us -- for my dad, for me and Jess. And never complained. And in the end, the three most important people in her life all virtually abandoned her. But she still always had hope. For all of us.

My mom and I, Korea