When my plane took off from Incheon, I wasn’t ready.
I stared out the window, and tears rolled down before I even knew why.

I had expected to feel nostalgic. Maybe a little sad.
But I didn’t expect to feel like I was leaving a part of myself behind.

Korea Wasn’t Just a Place — It Was a Mirror
I came to Korea to learn a language.
But what I found was something much deeper.

In the crowded subways, the midnight 편의점 runs, the awkward language exchanges, and the tiny victories of ordering food correctly…

…I found myself.

I saw how brave I could be — when I couldn’t rely on words.
I saw how much I craved connection — even in silence.
I saw how deeply I wanted to belong, even in a world that wasn’t mine.

Language Was Just the Beginning
I thought I was just here to master Korean grammar.
But the truth is — Korean challenged more than just my brain.
It challenged my ego. My patience. My identity.

There were days I couldn’t speak.
Days I got laughed at.
Days I wanted to give up and hide behind English again.

But there were also moments I’ll never forget:

A stranger helping me find my way

A kind smile when my pronunciation failed

A late-night talk with a friend, entirely in Korean, that felt real

These weren’t just language milestones — they were human ones.

Leaving Felt Like Losing Progress I Couldn’t Measure
It wasn’t about “how fluent” I had become.
It was about the life I had built around the language — the routines, the sounds, the culture that had started to feel like home.

Korea was no longer foreign.
It was part of me.

And when I left, it felt like I had to put that part of me on pause.

I Cried Because I Grew Here
Because Korea isn’t just where I studied —
It’s where I struggled, stumbled, and kept going.

It’s where I stopped trying to be perfect.
Where I started letting myself be seen.
And where I finally realized…

I’m not just learning Korean.
​I’m learning how to live with more courage, connection, and heart.