Sabbath

He commanded to rest for a day. I tried to recall my past. When was the last time I completely rested for an entire day? I couldn't remember well. I had no memory of enjoying complete rest anywhere. Not at church, school, the workplace, or home. It is as if I am living without breathing. When sleeping with sleep apnea, one often wakes up from suffocating, gasping heavily for air. Just as breathing—which ought to operate unconsciously—fails to function properly, a broken human being must consciously take rest, much like a person who must consciously force themselves to breathe. As if one did not sleep, but merely spent that long night with closed eyes.

Whose fault was it that rest was lost? From where did the thread begin to tangle? Staring at the broken ball of yarn for a long time, rather than untangling it, I wanted to slice it with scissors. Slicing it clean in half, just like this life. I wanted to cut it away.

There were so many days when I wanted to snip the thread of life clean off, but the single thread called 'heavenly bond'—the ties of blood—was stubbornly resilient and could not be severed.

One truth I learned through my childhood is that karma passes down through generations. My father, who did his absolute best under an incompetent and broken grandfather. However, no matter how hard you do your best, if the place is full of ruined human beings, establishing a family lineage is no easy task. If only they had just stayed still, it would have been so nice, but because of those who inflict harm, hell begins anew, and the bloody efforts to live a good life on this earth vanish into bubbles.

The burden of sin that no one takes responsibility for. Taking over the burden of life under the name of heavenly bond, born without a choice, I too inherit that burden. What sin does the child of a slave bear? The parents were slaves, so the child merely ended up living as a slave. What fault lies with those parents? They, too, were born under slaves and might have been taught to live as slaves.

Pigs live without knowing the day of their death while eating the feed provided by their masters, yet they bear offspring and are sold off as meat. The life of a slave is no different. The surplus wealth is taken by the master, the slave is used for moneymaking until death, and the children continue the life of slavery generation after generation.

How I wish to be free. I detest humans. Being born as a human is agonizing. If I could, I want to be free from everything. I want to breathe. Without having to be conscious of it. I want to breathe without consciousness. Just like everyone else does.

Yet, perhaps I must live through days where I cannot find rest within this curse. I am afraid. I am sad. I am in agony. My God is dead, and whenever I touch the cold flesh of God, I feel a chilling horror in the fact that I am alive. Are you at rest? Please, say just a single word. Thus, an empty echo resounds.