Dear Life,

There are days when it feels like we’re all just flung into this chaotic, confusing, strangely beautiful mess called life with no guide, no warning, and no hand to steady us. We’re expected to learn as we go, to face our storms alone, to stitch our wounds in silence.

So we grow an armour—thin at first, then thicker with every bruise.

Not because we are fearless, but because fear taught us not to trust too easily.

Not to lean.

Not to hope.

But sometimes, life surprises us.

It hands us a story—a series that doesn’t just entertain but gently rearranges the furniture inside our heart.

For me, as a girl walking through the fragile, fiery transition into womanhood, that series didn’t feel like fiction. It felt like a hand reaching into the dark. It gave me hope bigger than life itself.

There was this boy…

A soft-hearted, stubborn boy who loved a girl with everything he had.

He couldn’t bear to see her hurt, to see tears stain her face, to let her fall asleep hungry.

His love wasn’t loud—just fiercely present.

And then he grew into a man.

A man whose presence felt like safety.

A man who looked at her as though breathing without her would feel incomplete.

Gwan-sik.

A name that became a refuge.

A man who was her shoulder, her path, her home.

They faced more hatred than love, more storms than sunshine.

Yet they kept moving forward because their love wasn’t a fleeting spark—it was a compass.

Watching them, I couldn’t help but whisper into the universe:

Dear Life,

I know you will give me happiness, laughter, and a thousand moments of wonder.

But I also know you will bring me pain, heartbreak, and nights that feel too long.

We cannot outrun the breaking.

We cannot move through this world without scars.

So I ask you, gently—

When you hand me your tangerines,

also place a Gwan-sik by my side.

A love that steadies me when I shake.

A love that feels like coming home.