Even a Life Headed Downward Has a Basement
A person confronts their self-loathing when a mysterious figure asks for release, forcing them to question how far down they can fall.
Each sentence was submitted separately and chosen by community vote before the next one could be written. Nobody knew how it would end.
Read the Korean original →
He stares at me with dark, murky eyes—whether welcoming or cursing, I cannot tell.
Eyes that could be resentment or hope, impossible to discern.
Do you have something you want to say to me? I'll listen to anything, I said as gently as I could.
Hope flickered in his eyes. He stammered his words. "Let me... let me out... please..."
I was flustered. Let him out? I want to as well, but I don't know how.
His eyes were familiar. They were like my own before my dreams faded, when I still longed for happiness.
If I were persuaded by that look and opened the door, I, the gatekeeper, would lose all meaning in my existence.
He said, "Only when you truly forgive your past self will this door finally open."
I bit my lips hard. I hadn't known. How much had I hated myself all this time?
From the beginning, I led my life into this basement by defining my existence as descending to the bottom.
Now, toward someone who had always blamed their circumstances or evaded through cheap self-loathing, a swelling hatred rose up.
How much longer must I descend? How far will I fall? Does my ruin even have an end?
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