Answering this question was not that hard before. Everything changed after a single day. Wang Hoi was born one night in 2018. The one that was lonely and frustrating, in a boarding school dorm room alone. As soon as I entered KMLA, I was discouraged by the unfamiliar atmosphere. Colleagues raised their hands and elaborated their thought without hesitation in class. It was hard to see those friends in all-boys middle school (where teachers called us “animals”) where rigor approached 0. I was also a shy kid who cannot even say a word to the girl that I've had a crush on for three years. Making a speech in front of others was not easy for me. I felt great respect for my new classmates, while, at the same time, I was afraid of being ejected by natural selection in the new ecosystem, as Darwin mentioned. That night, I dreamed of my new self, modeled on those who I admired. That night, Wang Hoi replaced the old Hyunseok. That night, a confident smile showing my determination replaced my uptight looking.
Next day, Wang Hoi started doing things that Hyunseok didn’t. The beginning was tough, as expected. The words and logics that came out from my mouth were not organized at all. But still, thanks to my intelligent friends, they were able to decode my ideas from the scrambled speech. Being Wang Hoi certainly had its advantages. While Hyunseok remained silent, Wang Hoi was getting bolder and better expressing my opinion to others. It also changed my introverted personality to a member who can join in easily conversations and build up relationships. Better relationships in classes and clubs helped me with life in KMLA. I successfully adapted to the new surrounding and performed well academically. If the definition of home is a place where one builds his identity, maybe KMLA is my home. KMLA also fitted in the literal meaning of home: a place where one lives.
Going back to Songpa from Hoengseong by taking the express bus from the rest area, I make my neural driver change myself back into Hyunseok from Wang Hoi. Hyunseok is a guy with a tender heart who is still adolescent and depends a lot on his family. As I am the youngest in my family, I grew up with unconditional love from my parents and brothers. When I hear the CM song indicating the arrival to Seoul from the express bus, I can't wait to see my parents. I jump right into my bed and recharge my batteries from my hectic routine. Next morning, when I open the door of my room, the funky smell of the soybean paste stew- my mother’s signature dish- from the kitchen directly enters my nose. The familiar scent makes me relaxed even I have tons of works to do. If a home is defined as a place where one can be relaxed, I bet Songpa would be a better terminal for my neural train.
Hmm, maybe there is no home for me at all. In either place, I’m never a native, always a foreigner. The 3-year limit for KMLA dormitory is coming to an end. After graduation, I will not live in this 12-floor lighthouse that brings in thousands of insects every night. I'm just a temporary resident from somewhere else. Songpa is not much different. Once a month visits for three years have made me an outsider of the city. Every visit, I am confused by the change in the location of Starbucks and the newly built apartments that I've never seen before. Also, entering college, I will live abroad, which will make me more indifferent than now. Yes, I'm lost.
One question asking my home made me lost. Yet I have learned much from being lost. Living in two worlds, I learned to make connections between distantly familiar things and to find a sense of tranquility in ambiguity and the unknown. And yet somehow, these new-learned abilities seem to make the driver comfortable for the new stations that would be added to my railway. If I ever wake up to find my new self one again in a different place, I will be relieved and regretful, but no longer be exhausted to define where I am.
I'm lost, but I love to be in this way. So, if one asks me where my home is, I will answer, "I'm a happy nomad."
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