A diary written after watching the death of Bae In-gyu and interviews with those around him

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In programs that deal with couples in a divorce crisis, they always bring up the childhood memories of participants who seem to be currently facing some issues. Even when watching Venerable Pomnyun's Q&A sessions, if he senses someone's psychology is unstable, he asks, "Did something happen when you were young?"
There is a saying that "old habits die hard," and it truly seems to be the case. It is the same even when reading books on Myeongri (destiny/fate). Myeongri explains that the principles of destiny are determined by the energy contained in the first breath a child takes upon birth or the Earth's field that governs that child's lifelong energy. Naturally, since profound and beautiful stories like these feel like nonsense when read for the first time, I also dismissed them as nonsense when I first read them.
Just as old habits die hard, Venerable Pomnyun says that a child's first three years are incredibly important. If they do not receive enough love and attention during that period, they are likely to develop what is commonly called "love starvation" or "attention starvation" as they grow up; if they are scolded too much during that time, they grow up fearing and constantly avoiding reprimand. In other words, there is a high possibility that almost all of my current problems are actually traumas from my childhood.
First experiences are truly important. Every "first" is precious. Being in a period of high sensitivity means taking everything very large and seriously. If you ask when sensitivity is at its peak, it is naturally during childhood. Sensitivity is bound to be higher the younger one is, because nothing is familiar yet. Once you become accustomed to something, it becomes ordinary. No matter how delicious something is, if you eat it every day, you get used to it; no matter how hard something is, if you do it every day, it becomes less difficult. Once things become familiar, it is hard to experience them as intensely as the first time. The memory of the first time can dictate the memory of that thing for a lifetime. Even today, while riding the subway, I saw a middle-aged man who looked to be in his late 50s playing StarCraft..
In those programs dealing with couples in crisis, they depict husbands who are very authoritative and patriarchal, and fathers who were just as or even more authoritative and patriarchal than those husbands. Husbands in a divorce crisis wield absolute power within the household, but in front of their fathers, they turn into infinitely small children. In front of someone merely acting as their father, they weep like children and ask, "Father... why did you do that to me? I am still so afraid of you... Why on earth did you do that to me back then?" They cannot demand answers; they only ask like young, fearful boys. Carrying those raw, exposed wounds, they grew up to become someone's father and someone's husband. Those wounds are still raw and exposed, so if someone touches them, they flinch in pain. Such unhealed wounds are transplanted onto others.
At some point, I began to see the likeness of children in adults who pretend to be adults, speak like adults, and use adult tones. 'Ah... actually, they are still the same... they grew up while carrying that wound...' I don't mean this in a bad way. I am the same. We grow up exactly as we are, carrying our childhood memories.
It is only because we are adults now and maintain each other's dignity that we act this way; if we were to return to our childhood selves and our "wild" nature emerged, many of these adults would become immature and foolish. It is just that compared to that time, everyone has learned how to protect themselves and has become harder to provoke; if we returned to our current thoughts while in our childhood state—when we didn't know how to defend ourselves—we would be extremely immature. In truth, we are all just fragile, wounded boys.
Recently, a YouTuber passed away. I didn't support the person named Bae In-gyu, but I watched him often. I knew the saying "a cowardly dog barks the loudest," but I never thought Bae In-gyu was a cowardly dog. He seemed strong and tough to me. But after his death, the words from those closest to him were a bit different. They said he was weaker and more fragile than anyone else. They said he found it incredibly difficult and terrifying to refuse someone's request. They said he trembled, fearing he might not go to heaven or might not be saved. They said he had lived his whole life in pain from the memory of being abandoned by his father in his childhood. And they said that even though he lived apart, he constantly spoke of wanting to be a cool dad to his young son.
Does evil exist in this world? I did not support the actions Bae In-gyu took in the world. I thought he hurt many people. However, to call what he did "evil"... when considering his wounds, his pain, and his suffering, I felt his actions should perhaps be described as "pseudo-evil" (acting evil to hide weakness). I believe all evil is pseudo-evil. We are all people who want to be good, but we failed at it. We are people who want to be good but were in too much pain. We are people who are still hurting.
No one wants to be evil. It's just that sometimes, the desire not to be hurt today takes precedence over the difficult desire to be good. That is why some people scream, some trample others, and some hurt others first. I thought that perhaps evil is not a desire to be evil, but a resistance to protect one's weak self.