10×10: My Korean apartment

When they first dropped me off after I arrived in Korea – actually, when they first opened that door – my attitude sank. I knew I’d spend the next year in this hole, but I didn’t know if I could cope.

I felt like I’d made a mistake.

I don’t know how big it is here exactly, but I know I can’t make two full arm spans across the room. I’m 5’8″. I assume my arms are roughly the same. That’s how I came up with the 10×10 number.

This is for real, I thought. If I want to go back now, I have to pay for it.

But another part of me thought I’d pay more trying to live here, here in this room.

I paced back and forth, back and forth for probably 10 minutes, two steps in each direction before spinning on my heels. What do I do now? What do I do now?

Finally, I got up and left to explore the surroundings and reboot. When I got back, I crashed on the bed. I called it jet lag, but it might have been more serious.

Now, seven months later, I still crash on that bed, the bed that’s beside ┬áme right now. But now when I crash here, I’m home, home in this 10×10 room. And now I question why everyone lives in such large spaces.

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