ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ➻〚𝙣𝙘𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙩7〛

Dear Dream: 4 Years Later

~

Mark Lee

~

"Mark Lee," sounded the voice of our school dean through the loudspeaker of the auditorium, filled with emotional, sobbing parents, proud grandparents and teachers staring fondly at the students, indifferent siblings glued to their cellphones, and most importantly, a group of anxiously waiting students, biting their lips in a nervous excitement. They're uneasy about their futures going forward, draped in their deep plum graduation robes with tassels still hung to the right of their graduation caps, that and their diploma being the only barrier from facing the real world, without the shoulder of their family to lean on.

Stepping up from my seat on the auditorium floor, everyone who has technically graduated, with their diplomas in hand, to my left, and the rest left to receive their to my right, I take a deep breath in and collect myself for a moment. I'm not feeling anxious at all nor do I feel any emotional attachment to this moment. This is even most would be feeling immensely proud of the painstaking work and countless nights spent awake studying to get to this moment where all of their effort and sacrifice are being rewarded.

Yet, I'm simply exhausted and ready to get this done with. It's been a blur of the last four years, and not in a good way. Sure, it would be unfair to say that it's been a wholly unpleasant experience, as I've learned a plethora of useful things, explored and reconnected with my hometown plenty, grew new friendships, and enriched myself as a person, but I didn't want any of this. It's as simple as that. I didn't want to move to Vancouver for university, to spend days upon days stressing over schoolwork in pursuit of success, which is exactly what tore a part of my childhood away from me back in Seoul.

Knowledge is power, and I'm certainly an embodiment of that, but when it takes mental strife and physical suffering, I don't know if that power is worth wielding. I thought knowledge was all I needed when I was back in elementary school, believing that intellect and my high level of intelligence were all I needed to be happy and feel fulfilled with my life. Hell, was I wrong, and I realized I had realized that earlier on. All I wanted was to spend my adolescence, the most formative years to a naive young man, with my best friends by my side to lean on during tough times and to learn alongside with. I wanted to see the boys graduate life, watching with pride as my parents are for me now, to be their beacon of light in the pitch-black night, to be their older brother to guide them through their troubles like an old, experienced soul.

Seeing my parents up in the bleachers, standing up in gratification, proud tears well up in the corners of their eyes like they were that day I won this scholarship and my future was decided. I can't help but feel satisfied that I've made their wish become reality, that I've been the good, obedient, studious son they always wanted and accomplished what they weren't able to. After all, I wouldn't have spent the last four years working my mind to its breaking point of knowledge if I didn't want to please them and become the son they dreamed to have. I see their faces, so joyful and glowing, and I feel satisfied that I was able to at least please them, even if I couldn't please myself.

Satisfaction doesn't equal happiness, though. Satisfaction is simply the emotion that stems from the fulfillment of one's wishes or needs, and at the end of the day, what significance does satisfaction hold to me if I can't be truly happy within myself, feeling gratification for fulfilling my dreams and not someone else's? I never wanted this, after all; the satisfaction that stems from being my parent's ideal son is only a mask, obscuring my desires and path to happiness. My parents only love me and want the best for me, and I'm sure that if I had told them four years back that this wasn't the right path for me, they would've given in and let me follow the path I wanted, but all I wanted back then was to not disappoint them after all they had given me. I wish I had taken agency of my life back then.