I look at myself in a mirror and see a woman with a care-worn face. She looks shabby and tired. I cry out "Put forth your strength!" at her with all my might, but it seems that she is not aware of my voice.
Yes, my will wants the face in the mirror to do something. My heart always sinks because She always disappoints me. She gets too much sleep, She is bored easily with everything. She is always sick. Thus, my heart sinks today.
It seems that the life of a reporter is still too much hard for me. I, as a cub-reporter, used to write my articles till dawn and didn't sleep enough. How many times did I stay up all night? Today is no exception. "It's an act of madness," I have been repeating the same words for some time. This was an unimaginable life to me in my high school days.
"You are an honor student getting good grades, but you are never a model student working faithfully," my high school teacher said. Yes, I was a lazy, wandering student who hated that oppressive atmosphere. It was ordinary that I was late for school and ran away from nighttime study.
One day, I turned back on the way to school, for I couldn't endure the stuffy school life any longer. I took a bus without any destination in mind and wept my eyes out. However, my tears made me keep a balance. My conclusion was to hold on till the university entrance exam would end. I believed a university would be a beautiful space for me.
Oh, it was true. After entering the university, nobody interfered me. I enjoyed every freedom which I dreamed before.
Now I am at the Post. I entered the Post of my own accord, giving up my freedom.
"Are you still here at the Post?"
"Yes, of course."
"Oh, really? I'm surprised. I thought you would leave the Post in a few days.?
My old friends thought they knew me well. But I told them confidently: "Hmm.... You don't really know me. Now that I became the Post culture desk reporter, I'm not what I used to be!"
I was poor at gathering news materials and writing articles, but I am not scared of my future job. I'm just a little bird making efforts to spread my wings. A bird can go anywhere at anytime; its wings flutter enthusiastically for a newly-hatched bird, for its family and for its species. My wings also can flutter toward anywhere freely. And I will fly higher and more energetically for my journalistic dream. I will spread my wings at the Post.
I look at myself in the mirror again. She still hangs down her head, but a faint smile is forming around her lips. I am dreaming.... I am soaring in the air for hope.
Park Jin-seon firstname.lastname@example.org
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