分かり合う者たち

Looping through each hour. Moving clouds, dawning days, glistening nights. Asleep in the warmth amidst the chilling grip in the white room.

A bright day it is, but it is still gloomy here.

Say the truth, you said. I was not paying attention before, and now I do. It is one year overdue, though. These papers written for me, laid untouched until the owner is long gone.

I went out and watched people going through the motion of their own life. There is no hatred here, or so I thought. In this country, where everyone put on the mask of obedience, I find that a lot of pent-up emotions are being kept barely in check.

Within a lot of people, there are some voices unheard, and is meant to echo inside the owner's chest until it dies out. I tried to understand, but what can I do when even I am being kept busy with my own voices? At most, I attempted to connect to these people but I cannot see that what I do is enough.

"You can stop running. Aren't you tired?"

Those words, I am still remembering them. Words so kind I feel like they were not meant to me. I hold onto them so tight that I might break them apart. It is the truth, I think.

Repentant as I want, there still linger some thoughts that the past connection still bind me to the people who has gone away. Emphasizing that these are mere remnants of affection for the ones who are not here anymore, I sometimes lay in my bed recalling what me and those people had gone through. A lot of these are memories I have written down in fear of being forgotten, but it seems like the more I am afraid, the more they begin to fade.

Maybe some things are not meant to be remembered, after all.

I find it harder still to reveal my thoughts to people. Even to those I consider close. Now and then, there would be someone that try to coax me out from my own thoughts, but eventually they will back away, possibly thinking that it was not worth it. After all, dragging me away from places I am comfortable in will only result in me longing to get back there as soon as possible.

In the process of growing up, I wounded many people. What I thought were jokes are actually being perceived as insults by some, and the things people said to be that were meant to be constructive criticism I took them too negatively. Alas, I may have said things that disrupt others from achieving their dreams and becoming an obstacle that keeps them away from what they consider as the dead end of their life.

Being around you is fun, and talking to you is something that I enjoy. However, I have the tendency to push people away when they start to get too close. I know, and I have wounded you from my attempt to preserve the sanctity of my personal space, but the one at fault is me. Not you. A few months ago, we talked too much that we eventually ran out of things to say. While I was comfortable with the silence, you misinterpret it as me not wanting to spend more time with you. You started to get closer and closer, trying your best to not make me feel alone, but it was not the case. You tried to get me into your world, wanting me to see things the way you see them, but I was not ready for it, I am still not ready, even now. I tried to follow what you do, and agreed to accompany you to the things that you enjoy, but I did not feel like myself during those moments.

And by the end of March, we stopped talking abruptly. I was scared that we got too close and will feel pain when we are separated one day. You sensed my anguish and relented.

To this day, I am not sure if I did the right thing or not.

フロンチア

‘Endless boundary’.

That is what separates us from everyone. One day within the last few years ago, we thought we were cool with that.

No worries.

Even when we are all disconnected, we are still living. A better half going around somewhere without us knowing its whereabouts.

The sunset light.

Waking up to the orange glow from the horizon. Confused, I checked the dashboard clock to see if this warm light is the beginning of the day or the end of another.

The dream felt so long.

In the dream, I was sleepless. I was worrying, but of what? Anxiety ate me slowly from the insides. What was I afraid of in the dream? I went around the familiar surroundings and agonized at my failure to name any one of them.

Lightning on the sea.

The moment I realized that I was dreaming, everything became clear. The anxiety gone, and my mind rebooted. It was a dream, after all. At the same time I was sleeping, I was awake.

A broken clock.

Just as sudden as I woke up in the dream, I fell back asleep. I can recall this. I was watching at the empty noticeboard of my high school when this happened. An important information was printed and pasted on it for all students to see, and I remember feeling that it was ridiculous. That was the moment I woke up.

Spinning a die.

As if afraid of me being conscious, the dream world pulled my awareness away. I caught up where I was not supposed to, and the world punished me for it. Taking away my freedom and leaving me a mindless automaton. A slave without a master, but still knows what I should do.

Blinking light, beaconing light.

This time, everything went murky. As dark as the night after a firework festival. The brief colorful lights of the fireworks only made me much more aware that the sky is jet-black. Letting go of my innocence, holding onto another person’s hands and confessing what I wanted to do. Intertwining our fingers and mixing our warmth together under that darkness. A beacon of life in the silent night where everything else ceased to move but us.

It was only after we lose something that we realized its true value.

It was a dream, I told myself. Only a dream. Maybe it is a possible path in the future that I might take, but for now, it was just a dream.

‘If I am to see you again, will you be willing to talk to me?’

Remember those days where we used to converse without worrying and hiding our insecurities? By the end, it felt like we were waiting for either of us to show a weakness and pounce on the opportunity to use it to hurt each other.

Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe everything we have done is meant to be done. To teach us both a lesson. And to let us know that we were immature still, after all this time. We could have been happier, and we could be spending the rest of our years together but somehow, this beautiful thought seem to disappear along the course of those four years. We both seem to forget, and both want to see how it ends rather than watching it became true. An unrealized dream, we might say. It will always remain as such. And we need it to remain that way for us to grow up, else we will end up doing what we have done before, not learning from mistakes.

One year of living after you, I see things the way I don’t see them before. I learnt so much from losing something rather than achieving it. To treasure something, we need to lose another. Maybe that is the way world works, and I failed to notice that in time.

Going back to the present, the orange glow I saw after waking up was definitely the sunset. It tells me to go back to the place where I call home. The night approaches, and negative thoughts cultivate much more easily in the dark. I turned my back to sea and moved slowly but surely forward.

Goodbye for now, and I will see you again somewhere in the future.