When I went to Korea, I stopped by a local bar with my friends, and that day I had an unexpectedly fun experience.

It was because of the conversation coming from the table behind me. Later, I found out they were unknown Korean rappers.

At first, it was just noisy, but even when I tried to ignore it, I kept hearing them.

But those people were inserting the word "respect" into almost every sentence.

"You respect me, bro."

"I respect you too, bro."

"So respect the fact that you respect me."

"We respect each other, right?"

It was really consistent. Then one of them said something like this.

"If that friend respects me, that's something I respect too."

At that moment, I struggled to hold back my laughter.

What these rappers were emphasizing was one thing: Respect.

Living in America, you start to feel the meaning of this word more deeply.

Respect is not just about manners; it's about acknowledging the existence of others.

You don't have to like someone, but you respect their space, their effort, their choice.

Thinking about it, I feel like our moments of depression are similar.

When someone ignores me. When my efforts go unrecognized. When my words are taken lightly. The core of that feeling is ultimately one thing.

"I don't feel respected."

But what's more important could be the opposite direction.

Am I respecting myself? Am I respecting my time, my feelings, my standards?

One thing I've learned while living in America is this: People who respect themselves have a different vibe.

They don't over-explain. They don't chase approval. They just carry themselves differently.

That day, while listening to the rappers' conversation in the bar, I strangely thought this.

Those people may not be famous yet, but at least they respect their own world. That's why they keep pushing through.

When people feel depressed, they try to change their environment.

They try to change people, and they try to change situations. But sometimes, the direction could be the opposite.

Maybe the problem isn't the world.
Maybe the problem is... I stopped respecting myself.

Since that day, when I feel down, I think like this.

Am I respecting what I really want?

Interestingly, asking this question helps me sort out my feelings a bit.

Even after returning to my daily life in Buena Park, I sometimes recall that bar scene.

It might be hard to hear the word "respect" as much as I did that day for the rest of my life. But now, that word sounds a little different to me.

Respect.

Before waiting for others to respect me, I need to respect myself first.

Below is a YouTube video I found while searching for respect, but I'm sharing it because it's too good to keep to myself.