My Perfect ‘Eco-Life’
Hello. I’m Ji-yeon Kim, in my 30s, living in Seoul. I always thought of myself as a fairly conscious consumer. Whenever I went out, I always brought a tumbler and a reusable shopping bag. On days I ordered delivery food, I carefully rinsed the plastic containers and put them in the recycling bin. Occasionally, I’d buy clothes from cheap online stores to lift my spirits, and I felt proud contributing to the ‘virtuous cycle of resources’ by dropping unwanted clothes into collection bins. My daily life was filled with my own set of ’eco-friendly’ rules, and I firmly believed I was doing my part for the planet.
Chapter 1: Delivery Containers, My Well-Meaning Betrayal
That day, I had to work late and, hungry, ordered tteokbokki on my smartphone. After enjoying the meal, I did as usual—wiped the leftover sauce clean and took the plastic containers to the recycling bin. But seeing the mountain of delivery containers piled up that day, I suddenly wondered, “Where do all this plastic actually go?”
That small question led me into a world of ‘reality shock.’ The shocking truth was that a large portion of the plastic containers I so diligently washed and threw away were not actually recycled.
- The truth about recycling: Plastics contaminated with food, made of mixed materials, or colored are rejected during sorting and ultimately incinerated or landfilled.
- The hidden cost: For the 30 minutes of convenience I enjoyed, this plastic will remain in the ground for over 500 years without decomposing, tormenting the Earth.
I was stunned, feeling as if I had been hit from behind, realizing that the recycling I believed was a ‘good deed’ might have been just a pardon for convenient consumption.
Chapter 2: The Tragedy in My Closet, The True Face of Fast Fashion
The shock from delivery containers made me reconsider my entire consumption habit. Especially the clothes filling my closet caught my eye. I’m sensitive to trends and often wore cheap ‘fast fashion.’ The big advantage was that I could wear something for a season or two and discard it without guilt.
But what I didn’t know was how much the Earth pays for each piece of clothing we casually buy and throw away.
- Water and chemicals: It takes about 2,700 liters of water to make one T-shirt—enough for one person to drink for three years. The dyeing process releases countless chemicals into rivers and oceans.
- Plastic fibers: Most of the cheap clothes I wore were made of synthetic fibers like polyester. Every time I washed them, invisible microplastics shed, flowing through sewage into the ocean, eventually returning to marine life and our dinner tables.
My closet was no longer a place of joy. It was a tragic scene filled with the Earth’s groans.
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Chapter 3: Invisible Waste, The Digital Carbon Footprint
The problem wasn’t just visible waste like plastic and clothes. The biggest shock was in the invisible realm. I’m an ordinary digital citizen who stores photos in the cloud and enjoys OTT services for hours after work. Since I don’t create tangible waste, I thought these activities were unrelated to the environment.
But the moment we press the streaming button, a massive ‘data center’ somewhere on the other side of the world roars to life.
“Our digital life isn’t free. Data centers, huge electricity guzzlers, pay the price.”
Enormous amounts of electricity are consumed to cool these servers, releasing huge amounts of carbon in the process. My convenient digital life was actually contributing to raising the Earth’s temperature. The fact that it’s intangible made it even more frightening.
The Courage to Choose Discomfort
Now I know. The way I’ve lived—and the daily lives most of us consider convenient—have actually been lives indebted to the Earth. I’m ashamed of my past self who thought using a single tumbler meant fulfilling all my responsibilities.
The ‘reality shock’ revealed a painful truth. But it didn’t leave me in despair. Now I have a clearer idea of what to do. To think twice before ordering delivery, to carefully choose clothes that last longer even if I buy just one, and to clean up unnecessary data—small habits.
Of course, it’s inconvenient. But isn’t that inconvenience the minimum responsibility we must choose to live with the Earth? I may never be a perfect environmentalist, but to become a slightly better ‘citizen of the Earth’ than yesterday, I am willing to choose this discomfort today.