I’ve never been more alone than when I was growing up.
I was in a kimchichis’ house in South Korea, living with a father and a mother who would never let me go out.
The kimcheis, or Koreans, are a minority in their native country, and many people in Korea believe they are discriminated against because of their ethnicity.
When I was about 11, I was the youngest of six siblings and we had to learn English.
At school, there were no kimjil or kimji, the traditional Korean word for the kimcha, a traditional Korean breakfast food.
There was only kimjeong, a fried rice and noodle dish.
In those days, you could go to a Korean restaurant and get the traditional meal for a few dollars.
One of my brothers and I would buy kimcheon as a snack.
I would eat it with the rice and noodles, and then we would eat kimkjeong.
It was a lot of money, and I was lucky because my father was a very generous person.
During those years, I had a lot to learn about life in Korea, but I also had my friends to teach me the English language.
But at school, you had to speak Korean to pass the exams.
Every day, there was a test to pass and the only way to pass was to speak English.
It was very hard for me.
And then, when I got to university, my family moved to Australia, where I was born.
We moved to Adelaide, a suburb of Adelaide, because it was the closest thing to home.
Being born in Australia meant I was part of a new culture, and it was an exciting time.
After college, I took a job as a news reporter, but my dad had other things on his mind.
He told me to take a job in Australia.
My father is a retired army general, and he told me that he wanted me to be a journalist.
‘Be the new generation’s Kimchi,’ I thought, and when I came to work, I got the job.
From that day on, I became part of the Australian community, and eventually moved to Sydney to study journalism at Murdoch University.
As a journalist, I did not have the luxury of living with my family.
Even when I had friends, they didn’t know how to speak Korean, so I had to come up with my own language.
That was my new language, and that was my language of communication.
Today, I’m an international correspondent for the ABC, and one of the best in the world.
If I had any problems, I would go to the police, and they would investigate it.
On the day that I was killed, my friend, Kang Kyung-hun, called me from Australia to tell me he was going to report on the case.
Kang told me about the man who had just murdered me.
He said, ‘If you see him, come to the station.’
My friend told me, ‘It is not a good time to be in the news, but there is a person out there who might be willing to help you.’
He called the police.
Once the police arrived, I asked the man what he wanted to do with me.
The man replied, ‘I want to give you my phone number, and if you find the person who did this to me, I’ll kill him.’
I was scared.
So, I called him, and told him that if he wants to kill me, then I want to kill him.
Then I left the police station and went back to my home in Adelaide.
That day, I didn’t think that he was the one who was going do this to my family, but after a couple of days, I started to think that maybe he was.
I asked him to come to my house and talk to me.
‘I don’t want to hear from you, Kang,’ I told him.
I told Kang that I would not let him go back to his family.
‘Please, go back,’ he said.
‘I will not tell anyone anything about this.’
I called Kang’s phone number and asked if he wanted his address.
I said, ‘If you find me, come and see me.
I’ll give you your phone number.’
I told the man that I wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened to me in the car.
When Kang returned to my place, I told my friends that Kang had killed me.
They were very shocked.
I thought that Kang was going out of his way to help me, but he wasn’t.
They didn’t believe me, and we all thought that he had killed himself. That