Today a fifth grade boy looked at me and said "You are very fat." I didn't know what I wanted to do more, cry or punch him in the face. I know that he didn't mean it maliciously. He wasn't intending to offend. He was simply making an observation. A rude and inappropriate observation but an observation nonetheless. Kids have asked me why I am fat before, but it has never bothered me as much as this instance did. Perhaps it was the modifier "very." Or perhaps it was that I am on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I feel like I am a hurricane of emotions that I am not proud of. I am flames of frustration erupting into tears. I am a volcano rumbling with resentment, about to burst with bitterness. I am a tornado of tension coiling tighter and tighter. Claustrophobia is my classroom. I am a fat, American tiger caged in a Korean zoo. Don't taunt the tiger because it might maul you. Disdain is seeping out of my pores, and I am not happy about it. I try to picture the serenity of a monastery, but the silence is broken by angry heavy metal, the kind where there is no melody, just roaring hatred shouted at a microphone.

I have two and a half months left in Korea, and it reminds me of being at the 10 day meditation retreat. I just keep telling myself, I can do this. I will rise above this and be a stronger person for it. Hopefully, I will not lose my mind and go crazy.