Speaking about what troubles me is part of the method to clean the tarnish in my past, but it seems like I keep on talking about it nearly all the time. So this has to stop.
This cavity in my chest, it holds a perfectly-black kernel. No matter how hard I nudge it, it won't move. Something foul oozes out from it, and poisons me at times when I am alone. I am well aware of this fact, but I don't know how to stop it. The putrid liquid that permeates into my every being, it is making me restless and corrupts my conscience now and then.
まだまだかな？
Closing my eyes only makes me see those smiling faces. You have taught me a lot, and I did not even offer to keep you warm. I found solace in you at times, yet I am naught but a thorny cradle. I wished to isolate us from the cruel world without considering your feelings, but you are already tainted and desire so much from it.
Keeping the throbbing emotion in check, I wander around this desolate landscape. Clutching the green diary in hand, I trample along the path in between these gigantic trees. I am in a forest, and am on a journey back to where I belong. I see many animals here, but there's no sign of you. You haven't been here, I think. You haven't been here, so that's why I cannot sense your presence at all. But that's okay, I used to cling on your kind hands for so long that I forget how it feels to stumble on my own. Right now, it is my journey. I must not try to look for you anymore. I need to get out of this forest with my own resolve.
I am in a clearing somewhere in the middle of the forest. A meadow, to be exact. There's no sign of other living beings here, only the lush, green plants and the breeze that carries a familiar scent from a far-away land. I sit down and stare at the sky. It surely is vast, this endless blue canvas that envelops us no matter where we are. I don't know what else to do but sigh. I had been trying to mold myself and another person into something that can fit each other perfectly, so much that I didn't have time to appreciate what used to soothe my nerves back then. Sky-watching used to be my favorite thing to do, but in the recent years, I barely have time to do so. It is a matter that I don't want to recall at at this moment, however. The sun is calm and gentle; it knows that I am someone who is broken and is doing its best to not damage me even further.
I open the green diary and start writing.
Today, I met a kind old man. He shows me how to get to this place where civilization has yet to encroach on. We talked about the lives here at this place, and how I look like I am missing a part of my own shadow. I died once, I said. My shadow has probably crossed over to the other side, and when I woke up, it didn't have much time to return completely. My poor shadow must have been divided to half; one is here attached to my feet, another is waiting for me in that land of beginning. Maybe it is alone, and its loneliness seeps through the barrier between the two worlds and into me. We are from the same body, after all.
It probably is scared, said the old man.
It is incomplete, unlike you. Its half is torn away from him and remains with you, while it itself has known no other person but you. A shadow is already feeling inferior to its source. It is nothing but a blob of darkness, taking shape according to its master. It has no substance, no sense of individuality. It follows what you do and how you move, it doesn't have any will to express. You can be as colorful as you like, but for the shadow it is perpetually black. To be torn in half while already is on the verge of being broken, how does that make us feel?
That's alright, old man. I am currently looking for myself. I know that once I found it, me and my half-shadow will be reunited. After all, we are one and the same. If I manage to find myself, it will also find itself; in his case, its other half. I do not know how long I will need, but all I know is that I need to be on this journey. I need to do this to fix myself, and getting my own complete shadow will be my other goal.
The old man smiled warmly. He put his hand on my right shoulder and said,
"What do you mean by 'fixing yourself'? You cannot fix something that isn't broken."
I stop writing there and ponders over what that old man said before we parted ways. He is someone that I know, and I am sure of the things that he should say. However, those last few words of his are something that I did not expect.
To be more precise, I did not put those line in his dialogue script.
I close the diary and get up once again. I have rested enough, and now it is time to move on. This meadow is nice, and once I have found myself, I will surely return here once again. It will be my own private sanctuary, and a place I will go to protect myself from the world that has gone cold.
I wish that I can finish the scenario right now, but I myself don't know how it will end. It has come to an abrupt end, but I am convincing myself that it is just a hiatus. I will continue this part where I journey alone, but not now.
Right now I feel so sleepy, even in the middle of the day. I am surrounded by the smell of fresh laundry, and the scent of the soil soaked in rain.
It is a perfect weather for a Sunday, and as usual, I don't wind up my spring.
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