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Oli London is a British man who became obsessed with Korean pop culture. He became a social media star with his reviews of South Korean pop music. But then this white European decided he was born in the wrong body — so he decided he’s “transracial.”

London spent more than $200,000 for cosmetic surgery intended to give his face more “Korean features.” He used to look like any random white guy, but now he looks like a circus freak. (The photos above are before and after shots.) After 18 surgeries over a period of eight years, London says he is “transracial,” meaning he used to be white but now he’s Asian.

“I identify as Korean,” London proclaimed on a Twitter video. “That’s just my culture, that’s my home country. … I do identify as Korean, I don’t identify as British. I feel like I should have been born in Korea because in that culture, everything from the mannerisms to the way they look is what I identify with.”

Why are we supposed to pretend delusional people are sane?

Although it’s ultimately his own life and his own body, why are so many people afraid to say what should be obvious? This man is mentally ill — and he is completely out of touch with objective reality.

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I was borderline rude with an acquaintance in public today. And that’s not like me.

I don’t know the man well, but we always have a friendly chat when we run into each other. When he approached me in a restaurant Sunday evening, I just wanted him to go away. I wanted everyone to go away. He asked me how I was doing.

“Well, to be honest, I’m in a mood when I’d rather just have the whole world leave me alone,” I said.

I tried not to make it sound personal, but I wasn’t in the mood to explain. I made another comment or two, but I pointedly turned my attention to my MacBook’s screen.

He sat down near me and kept trying to chat. I replied as little as I could and I kept my eyes on the screen. He eventually finished eating and said goodbye. I told him I’d probably be more social again the next time he saw me.

After he left, I thought about the apparent contradiction in me today. I’ve been emotionally drowning on the inside, for a couple of reasons. I have walls up against the whole world and I don’t want to let anyone inside. I want to be left alone.

But I’ve also been a lost little boy — waiting for someone to rescue me.

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As I left dinner Saturday, it was about an hour before sunset. There had been a brief rainstorm, but there was a sudden break in the clouds — and the sunlight danced over the glistening world around me.

In the wet sparkle of water and light, the colors were vivid and everything was beautiful, like a triumphant scene from a movie. The world around me felt gorgeous and perfect. In those moments, I was in love with this life on Earth.

And then my attention shifted to some rude and uncouth people near me. I looked over in the car seat next to me and saw the mail from the IRS which arrived Friday, demanding that I pay another $300. And I thought of walking into the house right after opening the letter — and finding Molly dead.

In that moment, life felt unhappy and solitary. It felt miserable.

As I drove toward home, I found myself trying to resolve the extremes which I had just felt. Is this world a lonely and miserable place that’s our personal hell? Or is it a beautiful and amazing place of ecstasy that’s a personal paradise.

And in a blinding flash, I realized that it’s both — and I realized it can’t be paradise unless we’ve also experienced it as a hell.

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