[b]Han Kang
She’s a good woman, he thought. The kind of woman whose goodness is oppressive.[/b]
Or: He’s a good man, she thought. The kind of man whose goodness is oppressive.
Life is such a strange thing, she thinks, once she has stopped laughing. Even after certain things have happened to them, no matter how awful the experience, people still go on eating and drinking, going to the toilet and washing themselves – living, in other words.
On the other hand, here, one size definitely doesn’t fit all.
When a person undergoes such a drastic transformation, there’s simply nothing anyone else can do but sit back and let them get on with it.
And with or without you.
Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded. The world darkens, like electric bulbs going out one by one. I am aware that I am not a safe person.
And, in some cases, neither are you.
Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time.
You either get this or you don’t. But don’t doubt that you almost certainly will.
The pain feels like a hole swallowing her up, a source of intense fear and yet, at the same time, a strange, quiet peace.
Reminds me of this: “Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.”