Permanent Record

by Mary H.K. Choi

How racism is a wave and a particle since we also get followed around in stores as if we’re going to steal something. I guess shoplifting’s an inside job?

When I’m successful and rich, these are the details of the biopic I’ll have to remember to include for color and relatability.

Honestly, it scares me the way I end up living out the aftermath of decisions I don’t remember making.

I thought my first time in Korea would be a kind of homecoming. Part of a myth I’d concocted where the trace metals in my blood would recognize its origins in the soil. I expected to experience a fundamental kinship. Thought people would teach me phrases and laugh at my pronunciation, some Crayola-rendered egocentric fantasy I must have cooked up as a kid. But this place is just a city. I’m about as special here as any wackjob rolling up to a New Yorker on the subway expecting an enthusiastic reception.

can’t help fantasizing about how the hotel people would treat me if they realized who I was by proxy. This, unsurprisingly, depresses me further.

You could do it if you wanted. You can’t pretend to be the passenger in your life. You are the puppet master. You choose this every day. Every last part of it.”

It is the black of the sky after fireworks. So much darker for having been bright.

“You think everything’s supposed to be big and easy.

“Pab,” he says, sitting on his bed so we’re at eye level. “You’re not going to change your life in a day. It took two years and antianxiety medication for me to stop getting overwhelmed about even getting out of bed. Do the next right thing and don’t worry about anything else coming down the pike. You don’t have an audience. No one’s judging you. Do the work.”

“No finite moment is responsible for my success. There wasn’t a fork in the road. Some monumental inflection point where my life changed. It was the accumulation of totally normal, regular-ass days where I worked hard, followed my better instincts, and did the right thing. You don’t get to start over every day; you get to keep going.” I get chills.

It is honestly so terrifying—so intolerably humiliating—to want anything and to declare it.