text: I ran away from the country. Failing school while selling drugs probably had something to do with it. Primal instincts told me to run away as far as possible. The farthest option was to join the Korean army, so it was the only option. My last week in the states can be summed up as eventful and predictable. There was one last fling with an ex from highschool, drinks shared at the local wing joint with childhood friends, and many tears shed by my parents and sister. I didn’t deserve their love, but it was probably the first time in my life I truly understood that. There’s something weird about traveling across the hemisphere for the first time as a young adult. Naps taken between the flight are accompanied by the same blue ocean until they’re not. Eventually land is visible beneath the clouds and the agitation from sitting on a plane is washed away by the excitement of reaching the east. When I served as a soldier for the Korean army, I lived on an American military post thirty minutes away from the dividing line between North and South Korea. The 4th floor of the barracks I called home oversaw the on-post playground and pizza shop/casino. Working twelve hour shifts for the military police station, I often slept throughout the day and woke up when the sun was about to drop. Trying to sleep while kids were playing and the sun was up was hard at first, but exhaustion from long graveyard shifts proved to be enough to power through. One day the whole barracks were shaking furiously, bombs were going off, and I woke up knowing we were being nuked. Kim Jong-Un kept threatening us about doing it for weeks, but it kind of surprised me to see him actually press the buttons. There is a weird calmness felt understanding that everybody around me would die, that I was about to open my door to death and destruction. Laughter came out as I realized I couldn’t even tell my parents or sister goodbye. I shifted around my closet to put on war gear, and reached for my cigarettes after strapping my boots up. If I’m going to die, I’m dying with a joe in my mouth while stealing one last look at the sky. The sound of bombs going off outside reminded me of my childhood, when I tried to wonder what it’d be like for the people in the twin towers. Would this be more chaotic if people around me were fearing for their lives, if there was a chance to survive? None of that mattered though. Life is too short, and this cigarette gave my one last moment to look forward to. After packing the cigarettes, I stepped outside. There were explosions seen and heard from every direction. All sorts of colors painted the sky. It was the Fourth of July. I looked to my right to find my coworker with a cigarette looking up. “Did you think we were being nuked too?” “Yup.” I forget who asked and who responded. Doesn’t matter. Sharing smokes in that moment not only felt great, but right. An immediate annoyance of waking up to fireworks followed, not to mention the war gear. Work was in a few hours, this was complete and utter bullshit. “Going back to sleep.” “Yup.” I miss the army, and I fucking hated it.