I Want to Die but I Still Want to Eat Tteokbokki: Further Conversations with My Psychiatrist (I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki)

by Baek Se-hee

I was in a car accident. It was my first time driving from Hongdae and Gwanghwamun back to Ilsan, and it was on this final leg at Ilsan. I was at the point on the highway where you merge with the cars turning right, but it was one of those intersections where the merge happens immediately after the turn, and I hadn’t checked for oncoming traffic. There was a loud honk and I crashed into an oncoming truck, my small car shaking violently. The cars filing behind the truck came to a stop under the traffic light at the crossing. As my car halted, all I could think was that I was done for, but there were people opening my driver-side and passenger-side doors, checking to see if I was all right. They said they’d been fearful I was seriously injured. I was in complete shock, and passersby called for an ambulance and the police. By the grace of the heavens, I was physically unharmed – but I had to scrap the car. The wounds on my wrist and the crumpled-up car made me wonder if a person’s fate was indeed something set, that you were not supposed to go if it wasn’t your time. Maybe, I thought, it’s not that easy for me to die. And in that moment, seeing how many people there were who were struggling to live for one more day, my worries seemed especially petty and almost luxurious, which made me hate myself.