Labor without end. The thought that no one can save me from this exhausting work. Concern over what will happen when the moment comes when I cannot work anymore. In other words, what worries me isn’t death, but life. I must do whatever needs to be done to withstand this suffocating uncertainty that will be with me for as long as I am living. I learned this too late. Perhaps this is not about aging. Maybe it’s the malady of the times, as people say. Our times. This generation. Naturally, I am reminded of my daughter again. We have arrived at this point, her in her mid-thirties, me past seventy. And the world that she will reach, that I won’t be around for – what will it look like? Better than this? Or more relentless?

In this way, I refer to Jen without naming her. A woman growing old in confined, suffocating solitude. A pitiful, unfortunate person who must face the dusk of her life alone after wasting her youth and every last drop of herself on others, society, and other equally grand things. The thought of my daughter meeting the same fate as Jen is enough to stop my heart.

No one likes it when someone makes a sharp observation and takes it upon themselves to spell it out. I was born and raised in this culture where the polite thing to do is to turn a blind eye and keep your mouth shut, and now I’ve grown old in it. So why am I suddenly seeing these things as if for the first time at this point in my life? When I’ve already spent a lifetime going along with it and not saying a word? Why make such a big deal out of this?

How do I explain that I see myself in that woman whose wrists and ankles are bound? How do I articulate such a vivid premonition? Is it her fault that she has nothing and no one? Am I seeing myself in her because I’ve given up hope of depending on my daughter in old age? Will I – and even my daughter – likewise find ourselves punished by a rude, wretched wait for death at the end of our interminable lives? How far will I go to avoid that? 

Why is my heart always on tiptoes on the lookout for possible things to fear on the horizon?

I want to sit my bottom down. I want to lie comfortably, wherever that may be, take a few deep breaths, and calm myself down. Go somewhere away from here and watch this scene like the evening news. That things happened in that place, I want to observe from a distance like someone who has nothing to do with it. But it’s getting harder to do. The people around me and a certain world keeps pushing me to the center and forces me to stand right in the middle of it. 

The activity we call work these days is ruined and depraved. It has been a long time since it lost the ability to imbue a person with a sense of fulfillment and pride as it did to for our generation. People are no longer masters of their work, but slaves that must stay on their toes in order not to be pushed out and ignored.

So I cannot talk like the people standing on the other side anymore. I mustn’t. I cannot tell these kids to stay hidden, order them to keep silent, go through life as inconspicuously as the dead, or just go and die. I cannot stand on the side with people who say such things. But this realization doesn’t mean I understand these kids perfectly. So then, where do I stand? Where should I stand?

I feel for these kids. I feel sad and sorry for them. In that sense, I am no different from the many passers-by over there who stop for a moment out of curiosity and continue on their way.

But maybe what lies ahead is a life of endless fights and tolerance.
Will I be able to take such a life? Will I get through it?
When I ask myself this question, I see the face of an old woman wearing a stubborn, intractable expression and shaking her head. I close my eyes again. In any case, now is the time for sleep. When I wake up, I will have the energy to get through the next bit of life ahead of me. I am not thinking about what’s coming far off in the future, but what I face now. I think to myself that I will only think about what needs to be done today and get it done without incident. All I can do is believe that I will make it through the long stretch of tomorrows.