There’s something I’ve been thinking about lately, and it’s been sitting with me in a way I can’t ignore anymore.
I’ve always believed that fiction, no matter how polished or dramatic, is never completely detached from reality, especially modern storytelling. No matter how much creators try to soften things or exaggerate them for effect, somewhere in there, society leaks through. And that thought took me back to my K-drama phase.
There was a time I was completely locked in. I even downloaded Duolingo at some point, convinced I’d start understanding Korean without subtitles well, until I abandoned the app and got subtly bullied by its notifications calling me back like a disappointed parent. lol
That aside, before I lost interest in watching series last year, I watched enough K-dramas to notice a certain pattern - trauma. I am not talking about trauma as just a backstory, but trauma as a defining force. One that lingers and shapes behavior in ways that sometimes feel extreme.
I didn’t think much of it until last night. In my last post, I wrote this line:
“The only thing standing between us and peace is the fear we refuse to let go of.”
After reading it and pondering on it over and over, my mind wandered back to those dramas.
There’s one in particular I watched recently that I can’t just let go of. A character loses his brother during a hike because he let go of his hand. A tragic accident, yes. But what followed? He becomes afraid of holding hands. Afraid of physical contact. Convinced that if he holds onto someone, he might lose them again. And I remember watching that and feeling conflicted.
Part of me understood the guilt. I mean I get the weight of what if but another part of me was honestly irritated and that’s because it felt excessive. Almost absurd.
His fear wasn’t just internal, it controlled him, limited him and what made it more frustrating was how the people around him reinforced it. His late brother’s wife, for instance, kept reminding him of the incident, almost validating his fear instead of helping him move past it. And all I could do was constantly ask myself, “is this real?”
Not the trauma itself, because of course, trauma is real. We all carry things but this level of attachment to it, this way of letting it define your every reaction, is that something rooted in Korean society? Or is it just television doing what television does by amplifying emotions for effect? That’s really what I’m curious about.
Because if fiction reflects reality, even in fragments, then what exactly is it reflecting here? A cultural approach to grief? A deeper emphasis on emotional memory? Or just a storytelling style that leans heavily into dramatic expressions of pain?
I don’t have the answers, and I’m not trying to generalize. I’m just wondering.
So if you’re Korean, or you understand the culture beyond what’s shown on screen, I’d really love to hear your perspective. Is this kind of prolonged, almost consuming attachment to trauma something people genuinely experience that way? Or is it just one of those things that lives better on screen than in real life?
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