05:48
Subin is asleep. She sleeps well.
Whenever I drink, I wake up early.
Last night I went to bed just after midnight,
and I was already awake before four.
I heard it’s because my liver has aged
from frequent drinking and reckless medication.
It recovers slowly.
But Subin—why does she sleep so well?
When I see her lying still, curled up on her side,
I feel tender toward her.
We share a kind of language only we can speak,
and that’s both a blessing and a curse.
It’s unique, yes, but not necessarily healthy.
For example—Subin knows that every time
I’m on the subway,
I fantasize about cutting off my legs.
Which is to say: she understands what I mean.
She understands my heart.
Still, yesterday we were able to smile and say,
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
We sat with our bodies submerged in a stream,
just our faces above water.
We spread fig jam and cream cheese on crackers.
Ripe peaches, perfectly sweet, paired with peach wine—
It was the unmistakable beginning of summer.
Tiny insects buzzed around our faces,
drawn in by the sugar.
The sun was burning hot,
but we—soaked and weightless—felt cool and refreshed.
Our cigarettes kept getting wet in the stream,
but somehow, it just added to the charm.
It was summer, through and through.
We played a playlist we’d built together,
full of our strange, overlapping tastes.
It was a beautiful mess:
Kim Kwang-seok and Park Hye-kyung followed by
French chansons,
then Oasis, Glass Animals,
and even idol songs.
“I made him pitiful,” I said.
Subin said what he said to me was deeply violent.
“Then I must’ve been even more violent to him,” I replied.
But she said, “That kind of thing is all relative.
If you think too long about it,
you’re the only one who suffers.”
Wake up, unnie.
I’m bored.
And when I get bored, I get chaotic.
We said we’d go swimming again this morning.
Eat the rest of the chamoe, stop by the secondhand shops.
Still—travelling with you is always a joy.
Starting summer with you always feels fresh and green.
I get jealous of your boyfriend sometimes, you know.
I don’t know if you’ll remember,
but last night on the stairs,
when we were smoking,
you said something I’ll never forget.
You said you don’t want to die anymore.
I’m so grateful you said that.
I don’t believe in forever,
but I hope you can live the rest of your life feeling exactly that way.
Ruminations
ⓒ 2025 Moussy
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved.