Whenever I close my eyes, my mind’s eye sees Ayako-sama, or Tokyo.
Walking down a street, what I often see is not what is around me, but memories of a different place and time. And the figure of someone I can never reach.
If I dream at all, it is of that faraway place, perhaps with her by my side.
I am exhausted. Trapped between two worlds, trapped between two times, trapped between two sets of obligations, trapped between two sets of attachment.
My very spirit is on the verge of being torn asunder. And so is my heart. My mind feels like it will soon follow them.
I choked with tears of pride as I spied a plaque on the wall of a subway station, bearing with it the flag that captures my imagination and hopes. Pride in that the nation has done something worthy of history, pride in that the nation is still capable of great things.
Longing, yearning, dreaming. I wander through my days beset by illusions, dreams that seem more real than life, motivated only by the prospect of eventual escape.
Yet on this night, I seriously contemplate breaking this limbo by freeing my self from the temporal.
Silently, alone. With nothing but memories, and perhaps hopeless yearning by my side.