Naughty.Citrus_유주's post

Yuju's low room🍃 I'd shared a room with my grandmother on the first floor for most of my life, caring for her with ailing legs. Opening the window was a bit unsafe, requiring my parents to be home, but at night, I'd crack it open just a notch and fall asleep, watching the neon signs of the nightclub across the street float across the ceiling. Twelve-year-old me loved the moment the light turned from pink to blue, and I'd fall asleep to my grandmother's snoring, like the distant sound of a shell exploding. Even as an adolescent, I couldn't have any privacy, and even that feeling of being half-hidden from the outside world left me feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. Perhaps that's why I grew up looking out the window as often as I did inside. When I was twenty and first living in an apartment with an elevator, my apartment was on the second floor, with a senior center below. Thanks to this, I had a room with a view of the trees planted in a secluded spot, and every day, I could open the window and bask in the brief sunlight streaming through the gap between the high-rise apartments across the street. I loved this low room I first owned. In spring, cherry blossoms burst into the sky like popcorn, and in summer, cicadas chirped ferociously. In fall, leaves turned red, and in winter, snow piled up on the pruned logs. I saw a woodpecker for the first time on the veranda, spied on a cat napping, and grew various plants there. And with a sense of sacrifice, I filled the room with beautiful objects. Perhaps it was out of a desire to spare them, so I wouldn't die. I've had suicidal impulses since childhood. My suicide would be close to murder. I hated myself all my life, and I desperately wanted to kill myself. I worked relentlessly, relying on power, money, recognition, and fame as a means of absolution for a life that felt like a sin. When I could no longer write or draw, I realized that the work, money, and followers I'd accumulated were in fact an indulgence not for life, but for death. I'd endured this pain, so now I could die, right? Six years ago, my bipolar disorder worsened, and I spent most of my time either nauseous or asleep, drugged out. From then on, my room was my world. Outside, the seasons flew by, and while everyone else walked, worked, and became part of the world, I was alone, crumpled like a blanket in this beautiful room, isolated. Even with an eating disorder, I mostly starved, but I watered and aired my plants regularly. I rotated their pots according to the sunlight to ensure even growth. I didn't realize that I should be doing this to myself first. After barely dusting and vacuuming the room, I collapsed back into bed, contemplating how I would die. Before I died, I spent the rest of my life thinking about that vintage candlestick for MJ, that plant for Du, and that book for Ch. Three years later, Yuju succeeded in the suicide and murder that Hee-ut had so desperately desired. Yuju, who killed Hee-ut, rejected all of Hee-ut's legacy and took only this beautiful room. A room that someone who longed for death spent years cultivating, desperately trying to survive. With a frail body prone to collapsing every other day, he painted, removed the sash film, and applied three coats of wood stain to create the desired color. He hung channel shelves on the walls, and hand-painted paintings hung on them. On top of them, vintage items and dishes, each one painstakingly sourced. Above all, a place where the view outside the window is a daily gift. You created this paradise and yet died. This year, I filled this room with more books and plants. I removed the chair I'd been lying on and brought in a weaving desk, and began a new work. I began a new life of reading, writing, drawing, and creating again, a life of creation that doesn't seek beauty externally, but draws it from within. I present the stationery I designed, the coasters I woven, the props I fashioned, to the world outside my room. This beautiful nest, where I can return whenever I feel weary, is no longer a place that embraces death. While Hee-ut was constantly tormented, dwelling in the past and anxiously anticipating the future, Yu-ju lives solely in the present, in today. Existing in this very moment. Yuju, who inherited Hee-ut's life, which could only be lived by death, will live without abandoning the life she was given. Now, she reads, writes, draws, and creates for herself. This room will be filled with the records of her life. #2025HouseoftheYear #빈티지인테리어 #저층인테리어 #구축아파트 #저층 #1층 #플랜테리어 #베란다 #기록하는삶 #유주의낮은방 #naughtycitrus #NTCTbyYUJU