The Vegetarian

The Dream

Dear Stranger, I often wonder if the fabric of our dreams is cut from the same cloth, a shared tapestry of the human experience. My story begins with a dream, a haunting vision that clung to me like the aftertaste of a bitter medicine.

In this dream, I was both the hunter and the hunted, a creature caught in an endless cycle of survival and fear. Bloodied, raw, and visceral—it was a dream so potent, it forced my eyes open to a world I could no longer stomach.

You might know what it's like, to wake up from a nightmare so real you can still feel its breath upon your neck as you sit up in bed, gasping for the safety of the waking world. But this was no ordinary nightmare; it lingered and clung to my daylight hours like a shadow.

I could not shake the feeling that, in some way, the dream was a messenger, a harbinger of a truth I had long ignored. Have you ever been confronted with a truth so stark it demanded action? A truth that, once acknowledged, would not allow you to return to the life you knew? For me, that truth was simple yet life-altering: I could no longer participate in the cycle of violence and death I had been born into.

I stopped eating meat. My decision seemed innocuous at first, a personal choice that should have affected no one but myself.

Yet, the ripples of my choice spread far and wide, touching the lives of my family, my husband, and eventually, the very core of my existence. As you navigate through your own life, dear reader, you may recognize the turmoil that arises when the path we choose diverges sharply from the expectations of others.

The courage to follow that path is a test of one's fortitude, a trial I was only beginning to understand.

The Awakening

The morning after the dream, I rose from my bed with a sense of purpose that felt foreign to my limbs. I moved through my small apartment with a quiet determination, discarding anything that tethered me to the life I once led.

You know the feeling, don't you? When you suddenly see your surroundings—the clutter, the possessions, the trappings of a life lived without question—and they lose all meaning. It's as if you awaken for the first time, and everything is seen through a lens of piercing clarity.

My husband did not understand. He watched with a mix of confusion and concern as I emptied our refrigerator of its neatly packaged meats and poultry.

To him, my actions were an affront to the life we had built, a silent accusation against the norms we had never thought to challenge. Have you ever felt the sting of being misunderstood by those closest to you, dear reader? Have you felt the loneliness that comes when your convictions stand in stark contrast to those held by your loved ones? But this was not a choice born of whim or a fleeting sense of compassion.

It was a transformation that sunk its roots deep into the soil of my being. I could no more ignore the call to change than I could stop breathing.

It was a metamorphosis that demanded sacrifice, understanding, and an unwavering commitment to a truth that burned bright within me. Perhaps you, too, have felt the pull of a calling so strong it redefines who you are and who you will become.

The Fracture

As my journey continued, the fractures within my family grew more pronounced. Meals became battlegrounds, silent affairs punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and the unspoken judgments that hung heavy in the air.

I watched my husband, a man I once thought I knew, become a stranger before my eyes. His confusion turned to frustration, his concern to anger.

Each morsel of food I refused was like a betrayal to him, an unraveling of the societal fabric he held dear. You may have felt this too, the slow and painful disintegration of a relationship, the realization that what once bound you to another has frayed beyond recognition.

It is a heartache unlike any other, a grief that comes not from loss through death, but through the death of understanding, of shared paths and mutual dreams. The isolation that accompanies such a divide is profound, but it is also a crucible for self-discovery.

In those moments of solitude, I found a strength I did not know I possessed. It was a quiet power, one that did not roar or rage but instead whispered of endurance and resilience.

It is a strength I believe lives within you as well, dear reader. For within each of us lies the capacity to stand alone, to hold fast to our convictions even when the world seems arrayed against us.

The Rebellion

The rebellion of one's spirit against the expectations of society is often a solitary endeavor. My parents, bound to tradition and societal norms, viewed my transformation with a mix of horror and pity.

Where I saw liberation, they saw only deviance—a departure from the roles and rules they had adhered to all their lives. Have you ever been the outlier in your family, dear reader? The one who challenges, who questions, who dares to step outside the lines that have been drawn since time immemorial? There were confrontations, of course—painful clashes that left emotional scars on all sides.

At family gatherings, I became a specter, a reminder of the uncomfortable truth that the way things are is not the way things must be. It's a difficult path to walk, to be the mirror that reflects back the unease of those who have never questioned.

Yet, it's also an opportunity to hold steadfast, to be the embodiment of alternative possibilities. Resistance comes in many forms, and mine was not loud or violent.

It was the resistance of absence, the choice to abstain from the rituals that bound others to a cycle I could no longer accept. You may find, as I did, that the quietest forms of rebellion are often the most powerful, for they force others to confront the silence left in the wake of change.

The Transformation

As time passed, my body began to reflect the transformation that had occurred within. I became a canvas, a living work of art that bore the marks of my convictions.

My skin, once unblemished, became the parchment upon which my story was written. Flowers bloomed across my flesh, a testament to the life I chose to honor.

Have you ever wanted to make such a statement, dear reader, to wear your heart not just on your sleeve but on the very surface of your being? But with transformation comes pain, the physical manifestation of internal growth. My body rebelled against the change, aching with the burden of becoming something new.

It is a pain you may recognize, the discomfort that accompanies any growth, the birthing pangs of the new self emerging from the cocoon of the old. It is a necessary pain, a reminder that nothing worth having comes without its cost.

In those moments of suffering, I understood that transformation is not a single event but a process, an ongoing evolution that demands persistence and courage. It's a journey you are likely on as well, dear reader, a path that requires you to push through the pain to reach the beauty that lies beyond.

It's a struggle, yes, but also a privilege—to become, to evolve, to emerge anew.

The Isolation

With transformation often comes isolation, a byproduct of walking a path few understand or accept. My existence became a solitary one, marked by the absence of human voices and the quiet companionship of my own thoughts.

Yet, in that silence, I found a peace that eluded me in the cacophony of societal expectations. Have you felt this too, the solace that can be found in solitude, the clarity that comes when you step back from the noise of the world? There were moments, of course, when the loneliness crept in like a chill, a reminder of all I had left behind.

But in those moments, I focused on the truth of my journey, the knowledge that authenticity often requires sacrifice. You may understand this as well, the realization that to be true to oneself can mean facing long stretches of solitary reflection, punctuated by brief encounters with those who are willing to accept you as you are.

And yet, the isolation was not absolute. Nature became my companion, the wind and the trees my confidants.

In the embrace of the natural world, I found a kinship that transcended words, a connection to the cycle of life that was nurturing rather than destructive. Perhaps you, too, have found comfort in the rhythm of the natural world, a sense of belonging that comes from recognizing yourself as a part of a greater whole.

The Endurance

Endurance is the quiet companion of the transformative journey. It is the force that propels us forward when the path is obscured by shadows and doubts.

My endurance was tested time and again, by the incomprehension of others, by the physical demands of change, by the solitude that both freed and confined me. Have you known this trial, dear reader? The test of continuing on when the destination is uncertain, when the rewards are intangible, when the only certainty is the rightness of the path itself? But endurance is more than mere persistence; it is a deep well of inner strength that is replenished by every small victory, every moment of connection, every day that ends with the knowledge that you have remained true to yourself.

It's a strength that I believe resides in you as well, a reservoir of resilience that you can draw upon in your moments of doubt and difficulty. Through endurance, I discovered that the human spirit is capable of remarkable feats, that we are all more resilient than we ever imagined.

It's a discovery that awaits you, too, on the other side of hardship, a revelation that becomes clearer with every step you take on your own transformative journey.

The Reflection

In the end, dear reader, my story is not just my own. It is a reflection of the universal struggle to find meaning, to live authentically, to endure the trials that life presents.

It is a story of transformation, of the cost of convictions, of the beauty that comes from living a life that is true to one's self. As you walk your path, remember that you are not alone.

The struggles you face, the doubts that plague you, the moments of loneliness and pain—they are shared by many, even if they are seldom spoken. But also remember the peace that comes from living in accordance with your deepest truths, the strength that grows from endurance, the joy of transformation.

I invite you to step out of my narrative and into the pages of the original book, "The Vegetarian" by Han Kang. There you will find a masterpiece that weaves a tale even more intricate and compelling than the one I have shared.

It is a story that will challenge you, move you, and perhaps inspire you to question the life you are living. It holds more wisdom, more pain, and more beauty than I could ever encapsulate in a single letter.

It is a journey worth taking, a book worth reading, and a story that will linger with you long after the final page is turned. With all my enduring spirit, Yeong-hye