Most of my life can be defined by one word: addiction.
I think something in my brain’s dopamine system is broken.
When I fall in love with something, it takes over me—24/7.
I once ate the same Indian curry more than 300 times in a single year. At the same store: Otsal.
When I was 8, I dreamed of becoming a pro Go player (that’s Chinese chess).
I even made my kindergarten create a new rule for using the shared computer—because I hogged it.
I beat everyone around me in Go class. Even my grandpa, who was addicted to online Go.
Eventually, I joined a dedicated research/training center for future pros and almost dropped out of elementary school.
But after a month, my parents realized it cost around $1,000 a month in tuition. They gently suggested I quit.
To me, it felt like a disaster.
To soften the blow, my mom told me my beloved Go teacher had recommended I learn piano. That was a lie. But I believed it.
And just like that, my dream shifted. I wanted to become a pianist.
I threw myself into piano. By age 10, I was playing Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu and Silvery Waves by Addison P. Wyman.
I set my sights on Korea’s prestigious arts middle school—but again, money got in the way.
In fifth grade, my homeroom teacher gave me a hint of what could be next.
She handed me a middle school–level math book. I couldn’t solve most of it—except a few puzzles about number patterns.
I asked how to solve the rest. She said, “You’ll need to learn middle school math first.”
Luckily, to study math, all you need is paper, pencils, and a few books.
My parents bought me some, and I studied until 3 a.m. every night.
By the end of elementary school, I was happily solving university-level calculus and playing with physics problems for fun.
Why did I study so hard? Yes, it was fun. I wanted to be a mathematician.
But there was also a deeper reason.
Around that time, I realized I was a woman. It hurt. And I kept it secret.
Strangely, I decided to do something like a “customer interview” for my life.
I visited online forums for trans people and shared my story. Some people in their 20s responded via NateOn (a Korean messenger app before Kakao).
They had already transitioned—but many were struggling. Some talked about suicidal thoughts, and feeling rejected by society.
Many ended up in the sex industry—not by choice, but because they couldn’t find stable work.
And transitioning cost a fortune—money and time I knew I didn’t have.
I could see that would be my future too. My family was poor. They’d never accept me if I came out.
I didn’t want that life. But I also wanted to help people like me.
And in elementary school, the only solution I could see…
was to study hard.
(Next…)
