Jukai forest and suicide.

I was nervously walking under a grey sky, trying to pretend to be as casual as possible. But my legs were wobbling, and my heart was pumping as if it was about to face its demise. Yes, I was on my way to check my SAT biology score. I thought I would collapse on my way to Ms. Min’s office, who was my biology teacher, but somehow my legs managed to support my limbs. At last, the dramatic moment came upon me. I closely looked at the front of my exam paper, and when I checked my score written black on a grey sheet of paper, a Japanese suicide forest swept in my head like a panorama.  For a short moment, I was in the middle of the Japanese suicide forest where trees emit the scent of death and animals greet decaying human corpses. I escaped from my horrid delusion, but my miserable reality awaiting me in Ms. Min’s office was more horrible. Letting out a deep and sorrowful groan, I got out of Ms. Min’s office and dragged my legs towards my dormitory.

 Of course, I did not commit suicide. But that momentary dread and sorrow when I checked my score made me to ponder about a video of the Japanese suicide forest that I watched during Mr. Garrioch’ s class. I still vividly remember human corpses, traces of suicide, and rusty cars that lost their owners.  Not surprisingly, the video stated that more than one hundred people commit suicide in the Japanese suicide forest, or Jukai forest, annually, proving that Jukai forest is indeed a suicide forest.

 When I was imagining how I would feel like when I encounter rotten corpses right in front of my eyes in Jukai forest, one question popped into my mind: why do people commit suicide? How much misery did the corpses in Jukai forest had to suffer when they had their fleshes on? I can’t imagine. But I firmly believe that people commit suicide when their mind becomes irreparably diseased. Furthermore, a society’s negative view people who commit suicide would also play a major role. Instead of perceiving them as people who were in dire help, many people tend to scorn them for being weak and incapable of surviving in harsh reality. However, such view is a serious paradox. No one blames people whose bodies are sick or hurt. Then why do they blame those whose heart and soul are impaired? People who committed suicide should be also conceived as patients who need attention, affection, and hope to cure their chronic diseases. Furthermore, it is our society’s duty to be a doctor for them.

 No one deserves to be lonely, and no one deserves to be sad. Jukai forest should not be merely considered as an eerie spot that often serves a small issue among media, but a symbol of deep sadness and desperation that our society yet refuses to expose.  

50 years later after writing that arrogant letter to Brad

I stopped writing a letter of resignation and put my pen down on a polished oak desk with deep brown color. Looking out the window, I stared at a large green field embellished with various flowers emitting their beauty under golden sunshine and deep blue sky. On a shelf next to me, there were numerous awards with the effulgence of my past golden time. Everything looked so beautiful and grand, evoking a sense of reminiscence that my desperate struggle for accomplishment once demolished. I closed my eyes and prepared myself to start introspection to see what I had lost and what I had gained during past years as a mathematician. Just before I was about to plunge into a deep swirl of memory, someone knocked on my door. It was Brad, my old friend.  Holding a loaf of butter bread in his right hand and a piece of stained paper in his left hand, Brad was smiling at me at the door. But that smile was a mask that belied his sadness.

“Hey Justin, this one is for you, your favorite butter bread. Think of it as a small gift to celebrate your honorable retirement, my friend.”

I gratefully received his present and welcomed him into my office. Brad quietly sat on my old sofa, one of few things that had been with me ever since my debut in the society of mathematicians. Brad and I looked at each other quietly, but no words were necessary in front of 45 years of friendship to convey our feelings each other. Our eyes were all that we needed. I felt my eyes becoming watery. To break overly sentimental atmosphere, Brad opened his mouth first.

“I coincidentally found out a letter that you sent me 50 years ago. I guess this letter is the only one that shows our naive and immature past days.”

Brad laughed softly and handed me a stained piece of paper that he was holding in his left hand.

 ‘Hi, I bet you still remember me. It has been nearly 5 years since I threw your golden math trophy to a passing truck. I still remember the lucid dismay and antipathy on your face. Your eyes were red with tears and anger, and my eyes were filled with happiness after my successful achievement of retribution. Do I fill guilty today? No. In fact, I am writing this letter not to apologize, but to remind you the miserable past trophy-incident to make you humble, since I heard you are participating in IMO...’

‘….I can take you as my 'apprentice mathematician' if you are willing to buy and deliver me bread every lunch time. I will give you three hundred won. With it, buy one of each bread in the bread store next door and bring the remainder of money you have left which should be one thousand won, every day….’

Too much stain made rest of the part illegible, but it certainly reminded me of the past days when Brad and I loathed each other.

“Brad, why did we used to hate each other so much? I can’t remember.”

Brad smiled and said,

“What I want to show you with this old letter is not the cause of antipathy towards each other in the past. Look at the bottom of the letter.”

I looked at the bottom that I missed, and I had to laugh at what I wrote.

‘This is the perfect chance! You and me together, we will be Newton of 21st century. So please do consider my proposal-live as a failure or a revolutionary figure.’

Looking at my smiling face, Brad firmly grabbed my shoulder and said,

“Are you really going to leave? I was actually very mad when I first read your arrogant letter 50 years ago. But after 5 years of contemplation, I decided to accept your suggestion, and somehow have been working with you for 45 years. We were enemies at first, but hard time we weathered through together made each other best friend and best companion. The reason I showed you this letter is to persuade you not to retire. I wanted you to revive your initial passion after reading this letter and continue to remain as my best companion.”

Brad looked at me with sorrowful eyes. But I had to leave. I had to persuade him. I solemnly looked at him and said,

“Brad, take a closer look at the last sentence of my letter. Can you believe it? I, a mathematician, a person with rationality sharp as a dagger and cold as ice, was once emotional and careless enough to burst out such grandiose words! Brad, I had passion when I was young. Yes, the passion that you want me to revive. In the past, it was heart that moved me, and it has been my heart that has kept us robust despite numerous harsh competitions and hardships we had to endure. With my pure passion and energy, I endeavored to make further progressions in mathematics. But harsh society and endless competitions have eroded my initial resolution and passion. I no longer have enthusiasm in mathematics to attempt new tasks, and my rationality keeps preventing myself from seeking new challenges in fear of potential risks as I age. Rationality is an essential value, but I am starting to think that it is now causing ennui in my life and devastating my soul, since brain without heart is merely being a machine. Then, I reached a conclusion: I need to retire. I need to retire to revive my passion! But Brad, the passion I am talking about right now is not passion for mathematics anymore, but passion for my own life and happiness. I wish I could smile like the moment when I snatched your math trophy and ran away when we were in an elementary school. Brad, I want to be ebullient again as I did when I was a teenager. I have had enough glory in mathematics. It is time to pass my throne to others.”

Brad sighed, but he did not make further attempts to persuade me. Then he smiled again. The next word he spoke still rings in my ear.

“Ok, fine. You have made enough discoveries in mathematics and have endeavored enough to seek truth in mathematics. Now, it is time to seek truth in yourself and in your life.”

Brad stood up, and shook my hands with affectionate look on his face. Then, he gave me one thousand won. Looking at my flustered face, Brad said

“One thousand won, don’t you remember?”

We both laughed, and Brad left my office.

Sun was still brightly shining in a deep blue sky, and the flowers on the green field were waving for me, saying goodbye.