If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option. *The series is based on the real-life experience of Kim Nam-young, a JoongAng Ilbo reporter currently living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The following articles are written from Kim's first-person perspective. Itaewon is a well-known nightlife district in Yongsan District, central Seoul, and a popular spot for Halloween celebrations because of its diverse international culture. The disaster occurred during the first Halloween season after social distancing restrictions imposed during the Covid-19 pandemic had been lifted. Large crowds gathered in the area to celebrate. As more and more people poured into the neighborhood, the crowd became dangerously packed. The situation eventually led to a crowd crush in a narrow alley, amid a lack of effective crowd-control measures, leaving some 350 people dead or injured, including 159 fatalities. I have PTSD. As a reporter on the social affairs desk, I covered the Itaewon disaster on Oct. 29, 2022. Since November of the following year, I have been receiving treatment regularly. I attend psychiatric counseling sessions and take medication every day. I am only revealing the illness now, more than two years later, not because I have overcome it. This is not a story about recovery, but a record of living through the illness. To be honest, I still do not know when, or if, I will overcome it. Instead, I want to talk about the time I have spent living alongside PTSD. Even now, I continue to work as a policy and social affairs reporter while exercising, traveling and going on with daily life. If someone is hesitant to see a doctor, I hope this piece helps. I also hope we can become a society where people do not feel forced to hide emotional pain and trauma. Stay alive. Cling to even the smallest straw — and remember my name. Those are the lyrics from duo AKMU's "Fish in the Water" (2019). For the past two and a half years, this was the song I turned to whenever I found myself asking, "Why should I keep living?" I had always wondered what AKMU meant by saying we should hold on to even the smallest straw just to stay alive. I think I finally understand. It was so that I could remember you — the people in Itaewon in October 2022. Simply staying alive has become my way of remembering you that day. In some ways, I think developing PTSD after the Itaewon disaster in 2022 was inevitable. If you suffer from a condition that traps you in the past, forgetting is no longer an option. At first, I tried everything I could to erase my memories of the disaster. I believed that was how I would overcome the illness. I don't think that way anymore. Instead, I've chosen to live with those memories. I've come to accept that they are part of me and part of my life. Once I accepted this "cohabitation," it became a little easier to breathe. Then I found myself hoping that other people, too, would find something — even the smallest straw — to hold on to. That's what led me to begin this series. On June 1, I visited Seongsu-dong in Seongdong District, eastern Seoul. It was my day off. So I went to a Pokémon event, excited to enjoy the day. But then fear began to creep in as enormous crowds gathered early that morning. The narrow alleys packed with people immediately reminded me of Itaewon in October 2022. I later learned that around 40,000 people had gathered in that small Seongsu-dong neighborhood. After making my way out of the crowd, I found my phone filled with messages from people worried about my safety. Fortunately, police stepped in quickly, the event was called off early, and no one was hurt. Whenever I see situations like this brought under control before they become tragedies, I can't help but feel that my own sense of safety is returning, little by little. The Sewol ferry sank on April 16, 2014. The overloaded ship capsized in waters off the southwestern coast, leaving 304 people dead, mostly te...