Second Summer

Hi there future self.

I am sorry that I am only reaching out to you when there is a war inside my head; noises that I need to shut; ends that I need to tie ends to.

I'm sure you understand that, right? After all, we are only here for a while.

Right now I am trying to understand the concept of justice among different society. The idea of a system that declares black and white, right and wrong, decent and indecent. Impose these to a person, and that person ceases to be an individual. Just another cog in the machine that some would call a community.

A reconciliation between a unique self and an acceptable person within a confined world, that is also trying to fit their truths onto another world many distance away. That is a struggle I find myself thinking about.

How much is enough? The level of contribution of a person into his or her own world is hard to quantify. After all, within each person exists another world that is solely owned by themselves, with its different set of rules and truths. I feel that education in the early stages of growing up is meant to synchronize these rules and truths to the immediate outside world. Paste a while cloth onto a white wall and both will seem to integrate seamlessly.

Who can judge whether a person has paid their dues to the world, and from that moment therein is free to pursue whatever he or she wanted? There's nothing to be measured to, nothing to weigh and compare to like the feather in the ancient carving. There's no need for us to know, they said. It's beyond our realm of mind, and questioning it is akin to encroaching a zone reserved for the higher plane of existence.

Is there a need to broadcast every good deed that we do? Doing so might be seen as hubris, an unpleasant personality. It's easier to be a tattle, recording the bad deeds of others in our little black book, keeping our good deeds as a countermeasure when someone accuses us of something that will cast us in a negative light among others. It's never our fault if we fire back at the ones who shot first, right?

Lately I can feel the slipping of my own self who has been standing between a person who is true to himself or someone that will chip himself to fit better in the society. I don't know which side I will end up at, and everyday I am afraid that I will wake up and become a different person, and no matter which one I have become, there are aspects of myself that I will lost.

Then come into mind that is this sense of self that I am harboring worth preserving? Time is ticking, and I am growing old by the second. I don't know why but there's a feeling of dread that I have, that perhaps by growing up the way I am, I have breached some kind of sacred rules of the world unknowingly, and the punishment has yet to come.

Am I comfortable with myself? Sometimes I find myself rather pleasant and agreeable, and there are times where I loathe myself so much that I want to reach out into my brain and tear away the regions that decides who I am. I try to project myself into the people that I try to bring to life in parchments, to pour my essence, my sense of truth and set of rules into a fictionalized character and upon reading back, the character feels lacking and no better than the passing trees we see everyday from outside of the train going to the countryside. I try to split the character into two, one that carries my truth and rules, and one that carries on living no matter what, and suddenly the two become people who I cannot see being friends for more than a few years. There's just too much idiosyncrasies, too much similarity between the two that it was apparent that the two are originally the same person, but combining them results in a character that doesn't seem pleasant to follow the point of view of.

Everyday I write, and then read, and then erase. The next day it loops again. More and more it goes, and when I stop and take a look at the calendar, the second summer had ended months ago. A few months from now I will have survived longer than that senior of mine. As an author wrote, and if I may bastardize the quote: "only the dead stays the same".

Something Ever After

Hi future me. It's been  a while.

For some reason, I feel reluctant to write more about the Japan trip. It's one of those thing, you know. The kind of memory that is better left unsaid, because saying them out loud dissipates a bit of the magic within, like a magician's trick that has been explained in detail.

Do you know who I just saw today? At the lake close to our home?

It's the one who used to occupy a vast expense of our heart.

How do I feel afterwards? I am trying to silence the gushing thoughts that are still racing in my head as of now. I keep reminding myself to breathe slowly now and then, but whenever I recall the brief encounter again, those thoughts intrude yet again.

Maybe writing it down will calm them. Who knows? This is the kind of memory that I want to lose its magic, even a little.

I want to break down, or I want to keep a steady mind. It's these kind of thoughts, ones that seem to be mutually exclusive, trying to overlap and smother the other, that keep popping now and then. There's the need to scream out loud, and there's the need to analyze these thoughts serenely. There's a need to go out and run, and there's the need to just stay put to better understand myself. These kinds of conflicting thoughts are plaguing me at this moment.

This is a kind of paralysis, and I don't know which one to calmly unpack, observe, re-pack and and send it away. I'll begin by listing them out.

Guilt. There is still a semblance of guilt within me. I thought I have forgiven myself, but that short encounter brings forth a sensation of heaviness within my chest. So I still feel guilty, that's the verdict, but why? This is because I know the extent of my fault, the specific ones that brought forth the cracks within the bond that I cherished. I do realize that the other party is not completely guiltless, but the things I have committed to ruin everything are still there, hidden inside a black box in my mind, just waiting for the right moment to gush its contents out like a jack.

Confusion. I dislike surprises, and that encounter does caught me off-guard. And when I'm off-guard, I feel defenseless. In that state, I am completely exposed and I might make no effort to conceal anything. My words come out unfiltered, and emotions contort my face more readily. I hate that. I dislike showing my emotions out.

Regret. If the circumstances of the past were kinder to us, we might still be within each other's reach whenever we want. I keep thinking of what-ifs and what could've been, even now on occasions. Sometimes I dream of possible futures in the past, with characters who are composites of people who I know. The ones I feel strongly to, their characters tend to be purer and untainted by others, meaning they resemble themselves even more, at least them who I think I know.

Sorrow. It could've been better. That's one slip that will continue to haunt me until my final second.

Wonder. How's life without me? Since we cut each other out from our stories, I've been living like a drone. Collect pollen, make honey, guard the entrance until I die. Only recently I notice that living like that is not what I want.

Am I calm by now? I think so. There's a throbbing at the back of my head, usually a sign that I need to slow down. Both mentally and physically. Don't stress myself out.

A tear comes out. It's been a while. And I thought I've hardened myself, making myself tough, immune to feelings like this? Why did I do that? It's by my own volition. I'm shaking. Heart's beating at a pace faster than usual, but slow enough to not cause alarm. I feel feverish. Something's lodged in my trachea, and no amount of water can make it pass down. I'm listening to a song by my favorite band in an attempt to tune myself out, to ignore these racing thoughts. Is it working? Well, if it does, I won't be still writing this.

This might be a cry for help. I feel so lonely fighting this all by my own, but I know that this is something I have to deal with myself in order to finally escape the grip of the past. I am still within a bubble in time, stuck in a tiny whirlpool, unable to move ahead unlike the others. I have made considerable progress, however. I know it, but still the mistakes shadow me.

I'm tired of having these rush of thoughts. When I close my eyes and take a deep breathe, my mind's a blank state temporarily and when I open my eyes, they come back stronger, like the waves that crash onto the sandy beach.

This isn't working as much as I want it to be. I am still being plagued by the thoughts that I don't want. So let's talk about something else.

Let's talk about the things that I want to do, instead. That way, I can keep these dark thoughts away and occupy myself.

I want to to be free from these binds. I want to travel more, expanding my horizons. I wish that I can gain enough courage to step outside of my comfort zone. The things I want to do? I want to learn how to cook better. I want to be able to fix someone a meal that is not simple and to hear them praise how good it is. I want to be able to proudly pull out a book and say that it's one of my works that's been published. I want to have a deep heart-to-heart conversation with someone, to let myself bare and piece my true self bit by bit with their help and in return, I'll help them do the same, if they so desire.

In a perfect world, I want to let myself a hostage to fate, to be so helplessly swept by the happy ever after with the ones that I love, to have reach the peak of my dreams and not leaving any regret behind unsolved. I want to be able to wake up without fear of facing the day, to be able to confront it head to head without the need to fake cheerfulness, to be free to pursue the things I want instead of doing things I don't want just for a shot to get the things I truly desire. I want to be free of these thoughts, these parallel thoughts that seem to be at constant war with each other. It's exhausting, to be in possession of them, that I sometimes wish that I will not wake up at all.

There's something in the ever after. I just have to believe in that. Even if it seems so far away, and I am grasping at fading light, I want to believe. I'm filling my room with the scent of lemon, as it's a smell that I really like, just to remind myself that if I am to sign out from this life, I won't be able to enjoy it anymore.

I'm desperate, and I'm calling out for help. I want to live, the way I see a proper living should be. My back's on the wall, and I am willing to push myself against it to force me to move ahead.

Remember the pain, and recall the gain. Perhaps you'll see the end of this tunnel. Hear the raindrops, see the morning light. Go for the sunset, and when you're there, seek the sunrise again.

I beg you, future self. Don't fall apart. Stay here.

One Year Ago (1)

Hi future me, it's been a while. I hope all is good on your side right now.

Do you remember what happened around one year ago? To be precise, between 03/07/2018 - 08/07/2018? It's the days spent in that place that you had always wanted to visit.

I've been thinking about the trip, and to be honest, I'm afraid that I might have forgotten bits and pieces of the experience, so before its memories become much further muddled and embellished, I've decided to write down as much as I can remember now.

Touched down at the Narita International Airport around noon. The immigration staff there were professionally cold, something that I find odd and also relieved. It means that they have been doing their job a lot that oftentimes their responses are already hardwired into their behaviours and thoughts. One of them seemed surprised when he saw the name of my country of origin, though. It puzzles me to this day, but it might have something to do with the stereotype the Japanese has attached toward my people, in which they assume everyone from my country is filthy rich (this is incorrect, mind you). After passing though the checkpoints (I remember in particular the one where I had my picture taken and fingerprint scanned), I went through a long hallway that has a very high ceiling and transparent glass walls on the outer side. Summer has just started then in Japan, so the weather was a good one. I can still recall that moment, when I got onto the horizontal escalator that seemed to go on forever, the feeling of the warm foreign sun as its ray touched the bare skin of my arms and the mild hum the machinery underneath my feet gave out as it carried me to my destination.

Reaching the main area, I begun to realize fully that I was in a country that vastly differ from my own. If my country gives out a feeling of relaxation and laid-back easefulness, Japan gives out a feeling of a proper machine where everything has been accounted for and each served a purpose that it can fulfill efficiently. I wanted to change my clothes then, but it seemed that all the changing area closest to me was occupied, so I decided to just bear with my slightly sweat-drenched, two-day worn shirt and jeans. I only hope that I at least didn't emit any kind of embarrassing odour.

There was a train station in the below-ground levels, and that was where I boarded the train to where I would be staying for the duration of the trip. Since Narita is located quite a distance away from Asakusa, the train ride had a duration of around 30 minutes. The view was quite wonderful, however, so it was not as boring as I initially expected. For the first 10 minutes or so, we passed through a rural environment where farms lined up almost constantly one after another, with individual houses squeezed in between or smack-dab in the middle of the field. The train track was elevated to a height where I could see pretty much everything below us. On occasions, when another train passed the one I was on, there was a roar-like sound along with strong vibration that shook any minute drowsiness away from me as the trains slipped past each other with only a small precise gap in between. After the rural area came the suburban ones, where at the beginning there were only individual houses, each with their own charms, and slowly replacing them were the modern-style houses that barely differ from each other. A housing estate, I think they are being called. Past that, we entered a small town where I could recognise department stores from the way advertisements were plastered onto their walls and billboards. The train, ever so punctual, stopped at every station along the way.Once, I got onto the wrong stop due to being confused, and ended up asking for directions from one of the station staffs in crisp blue uniforms, ivory-white gloves and shiny jet-black shoes, and he kindly advised me on which trains I should change to and which stops I should disembark on. Oddly at that station, I saw a wall that very much resembled the one from a place I usually frequent to back at my hometown, and staring at it made me reminisced a little, and frankly speaking it was quite a dissonance of norm as there I was at a foreign country and I had something of a deja-vu of some sorts.

Finally getting off at the final stop, the one thing I immediately feel was the cool air, courtesy of a great number of air-conditioning units installed on the ceiling above us, and as it was summer at that time, I greatly appreciate it. Dragging along my luggage, in which one of the bags had a faulty wheels which resulted in it moving awkwardly, I went around the immediate area around the train station. It was clear that each buildings there were built in accordance to a block system where the roads cleanly divide each area into squares and rectangles where the buildings are built on.  A stark difference from back home. There were some rickshaws with the drivers, dressed in an almost skimpy tight white shirt and super-short, blue low-waist trunks that showed their powerful-looking calf muscles, waiting for any potential customers. While waiting for further directions after asking some policemen,  I saw a middle-aged woman pushing a large stroller, in which her three dogs comfortably sat in, looking excited as how dogs ought to be.

The next hour went to dragging the luggage around while occasionally looking at the hand-drawn map provided by the policemen, navigating through the the city under the merciless summer heat. After arrived at the hotel where I would be staying, I learned that check-in time was designated to 2:30 PM, and at that time it was barely past 1:00 PM. Slightly annoyed and uncomfortable in my now totally-drenched-in-sweat shirt, I had no choice but to keep wandering around to kill some time, as the lobby area of the hotel was too small to loiter around. I was grateful for the fact that there was a Starbucks a few blocks away, which meant I could cool down there. After receiving an exceedingly cold cappucino, I made my way to the second floor of the store and took a seat that faced the windows to enjoy my drink while observing the outside. I must've spent around 45 minutes there, as I remember that my body started to get stiff sitting down in the same position right before deciding to go and wander around some more.

I bought a bottle of cold drink and some packaged rice balls from a convenient store nearby and made my way to Asakusa Temple, where I sat down under one of the large tree and ate lunch. One thing I remember was a couple of father and son, where the son carried something in a white Styrofoam container, and accidentally dropped it down due to a sudden strong gust, and that was when I found out that inside the container were some ready-made okonomiyaki, now wasted on the ground. The father seemingly nagged at the son while they cleaned up, then he lightened up and gave the son a playful smack on his back.

Around 2:30 PM, I finally managed to get into my room, where I almost immediately took a cold shower. After that, I took a nap until around 6:00 PM, when I awoke feeling hungry. I went to a ramen shop that I passed by on the way to the hotel from the train station. It turned out that I had to place my order from a vending machine that dispenses tickets according to which buttons, each representing a specific dish with pictures printed on it, I pressed. I ordered a Shio Ramen, and some Tori-karaage along with soda to wash them down.

After that, i went to the train station and bought tickets to go to Akihabara to look for a power adapter for my laptop. There was a huge department store there that I was told to look around in, named Yodobashi. Sure enough, I found the adapter in the second floor, but only after asking for assistance from one of the staffs. He expressed some confusion, as the verb for 'laptop' there was 'Pascom', short for personal computer and spelled in katakana. Despite that, I managed to get one for a price of 3,000 yen.

I headed back to the hotel around 9:00 PM, and was mesmerized on how the city looked different from how it was under the sun. The buildings, decked in their own fluorescent lights, fought for prominence in the eyes of passersby, each buildings seemingly trying to fight another for attention. I bought some light snacks at one of the convenience store close to the Starbucks from earlier before calling it a day.

So that's it, future me. Do you ever head back to Japan? I find that their clockwork-like environment quite comforting, as it really contrasts the one we have back home. As some people say, you need to experience something else to feel refreshed on another that you have been doing repeatedly.

Brighter

I'm still here.

How are things on your end, future me? Today it's been cloudy since morning. Actually, for the past few days, the weather was gloomy, dark and rainy. Not a bad kind of weather, isn't it? Here in this place with perpetual summer, we welcome the sun's vacation with open hands.

The story I wrote since two weeks ago is progressing slowly. It's a marathon; slogging through, willing myself to break through the monotony of each day. Not that I find daily life to be boring, but repetitive things tend to dull my mind, and it's tough trying to escape that state. I wonder how your daily life is, future me? For me, it's waking up (the time varies, but usually after 7-8 hours of sleep), light washing, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, exercise (around 5-6 PM), free time, then sleep. Not exactly a strict schedule, as there are bound to be interruptions now and then.

Exercising is great, but I know that I actually eat less calorie than suggested for an adult male, yet my weight still increases. Perhaps my metabolism is not as active as per an average person, so now I try to be healthier. Not a picky eater, but I have a limited choice of food here. Perhaps you have it better, future me, but if you don't, don't worry about it. Make best of the things you have. Be positive, all right?

There's a conflicting feeling I am burdened with right now. The struggle between chasing my passion and trying to make my life more comfortable, it's really weighing heavily in my thoughts. These train of thoughts, perhaps biased toward my own comfort, oftentimes wander far off-track to the future, rather than how it will affect me immediately. I'm not a 'people' person, that much I know but do I really have no choice but to work for a system that propagates a competitive atmosphere, one that encourage others to shun those who succeed better than themselves, filling the workspace with yes-mans and fake courtesy, and the people at the bottom to relish on the misfortune of those who are in higher position than themselves? I know that perhaps that situation occurs only by the chance of a tiny percentage, but nevertheless it is still something I think off when I browse through the list of job vacancy on the internet. Am I secretly content with how I live right now? A facsimile of the childhood days where we are free of obligations? Am I just trying to blind myself with the focus on writing nowadays, knowing that in the end, this effort will be meaningless, and I'll have no choice but to subjugate myself to the system, becoming yet another cog in the machine that claimed to be making the world better than it was before? I am afraid, future me, of the things that will come.

Musically, I am finding myself enjoying more instrumentals than usual. The absence of words often send me into a daydream-like daze, thinking of stories and characters and settings to fill these blank pages in front of me. Do you remember, future me, that after a long period of writer's block, I realized that writing in pens and papers work wonders instead of typing like this? I have the tendency to look back and make corrections whenever idle, and it made me unable to fully finish a story. It was frustrating at first, seeing those crossed-over words randomly in between the good ones, like the potholes in the road that make us drive slowly to not damage our vehicles, but I am actually able to bring forth a lot of words now. I've decided to go through  the story to the end before editing them, and manual writing will enforce that.

Future me, when will this shackle that binds me will be gone? These inferiority that has long becomes my ghost, creeping and restraining, it's still there whenever I find myself not doing anything productive. My mind, it often is in a state I can only describe as overdrive, gushing thoughts and ideas like a violent torrent, and occupying my thought process mercilessly. it stunted often my considerations of actions, which makes me appear reckless though I decline to describe myself as such. Only by writing my mind seems to slow down enough for me to feel peaceful. Music can do it, too, but not for long. As soon as I become accustomed to the melody, those thoughts and ideas break through and start to invade.

I'm sorry, future me. I try to keep this positive, but I guess not everyday can be a plus, right. We need to have a few minuses to make the pluses even better, like that lightly salted vanilla ice-cream that mesmerized you during the trip to Japan in the summer of 2018 where it rained heavily.

Kind

Well, I am still around.

This is for you, my future self. I know that I have the tendency to check out this place once in a while. I have no idea what I expect when I reached this place, but maybe you can. I hope that you will still be around in the years to come.

Be kind to yourself.

I know you, my future self. I know that you know me too. You like to write, don't you. I am currently honing my language skills, and as of now, I have enough knowledge to understand basic Japanese and can read and write in Korean too. Spanish? Well, I think I'll leave it to you to master it one day.

Hey, future self.

Knowing us, there are times where we are wildly motivated and there are times when our mood dips too low. I want to say to you, now that I am in one of those moments where my confidence is brimming, that it's okay to kick back and rest. Be kind to yourself. Not everyday you need to be productive. It's better to pump in your utmost to get out a polished product, than slogging ahead and making a half-hearted piece of story, right?

Please keep on holding on.

I am counting on you, my future self, so please persevere. I want to see the future that is beyond both me and you. Do not cut our life short, okay?

What I expect out of you?

Please be happy.

I know that you tend to ruminate, pondering on the past and then beating yourself up for past mistakes. What I want to tell you is, those mistakes, even though they hurt, make up the unique self that you are. Don't regret the decisions you make, instead take the opportunity to learn from them.

What am I up to now?

I'm finishing a story about the dead senior who predicted her own death. You remember her? She had been living inside our head for a while now, and during sleepless nights she would speak and ask to be let out in a written format. You remember how fond we are of her, right? So I'm granting her wish right now. How did the story turn out?

Dear future self.

I know that we are still going to be looking for a way to finally be content with ourselves, to be satisfied of our existence in this place. Maybe you found it already by the time you read this post, but hey, if you haven't, don't worry. There's more to this existence that can make it exciting.

I don't want to die yet. So please, keep on going. Aren't you curious on what this painful, deceitful path we are on will lead on?

Don't think too much on your own. Voice out you thoughts now and then. An empty chamber only returns echoes of what you said, but another person will process it and give a different answer every time.

Feel free to continue using this space to talk to our future selves, all right? Be as encouraging as you can, but also don't be afraid to be honest. After all. you know we value honesty over fanciful lies that make you feel better, right.

All the best,
You from the year 2019, 1st of July