On 80, Written on 81

"Are you mad at me?"

His hands clasped tightly around hers, restless and searching, as if by touch alone they could determine forgiveness. His eyes devoured hers, but all he saw was

.

She gave a slight smile before speaking her first words since the accident.

"Sorry, who are you?"

=====

Above is a little dialogue for an idea that I've been thinking about a lot lately. I'm content with the way that it turned out, and I'm excited to continue writing this for next time.

Things have been looking up lately (hopefully I haven't just jinxed myself). I finally got around to watching Kimi no Na wa. and I finished it on the morning of 80. I'm kinda disappointed because of how little I felt towards the characters, which ruined the experience for me. This is not to mention the immense expectations I had for the movie, but I think the end result would be the same even if that weren't the case.

Yet Kimi no Na wa. was still really good. I thought the story was strong, the art was particularly pretty, and the music was nothing short of amazing. In the very last scene I felt the emotions welling up in me, and I wish that feeling had been present for the entire movie. Spoilers ahead:

In the last scene the main characters Taki and Mitsuha meet several years after the comet hit Mitsuha's town. They have forgotten each other since, but they know that they are missing and longing for something. When the two bump into each other, they initially ignore the other and continue walking, but Taki then asks Mitsuha if they have met before. To this Mitsuha responds that she feels the same way, and the movie ends there.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, I took out my phone to check some notifications and do some daily logins. Just as the movie finished officially, I heard a noise. I turned around and to my amazement my desktop had turned on by itself. The door to my room was still closed, and there was no reason why anybody in my family would turn on my desktop. Maybe there's a logical explanation for it, but I can't help but to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there's somebody out there trying to say something to me. Maybe that's the only way they can reach me, the only way they can say "I'm here."

I'm here too. Maybe one day we'll meet each other! But until then, feel free to keep turning on my desktop in the mornings. I'll try not to get too spooked.

I wanted to write a little post before I head to bed so that I can motivate myself to keep writing and improving (that and my hair is still drying). I felt pretty awful earlier, but I forced myself to work out and that was a mistake. The entire time I was lightheaded and parched, and by the time I was finished I could barely stand. Now that I've showered and gotten ready for bed I feel much better.

Anyways, there you have it! Until next time, my dear reader.

75/76

It was a cold night. I sat there waiting for the bus home, and a man in a mobility scooter pulled up to the bus schedule and turned around to make a remark about how we were lucky there was a bus this late. I smiled, for I felt fortunate as well.

He moved to my side, and we started some small conversation. To my surprise, idle chit chat became an outlet for his problems, and in the following minutes he poured out his most pressing troubles at the time. He looked at least 70, his face speckled with white hair and age. I couldn't pinpoint his ethnicity at all, but that's probably because I suck at that.

If I were to explain his story simply, I would say he was in an unfortunate situation. It didn't matter whether he got himself into the situation or if it was all out of his control - it just is what it is. After hearing him out and politely refusing his regular offers of various food items (including pastries, cookies, and fruit cups), we began to talk about me. What I was doing there at such a late hour? What did I do for a living? So on and so forth...

"Korean?"

I shook my head.

"Chinese."

I nodded.

Satisfied with his deduction, he laid back in his mobility scooter.

At some point he asked if I was married, to which I quickly responded no.

"I'm only 18."

"Girlfriend then?"

I grinned wryly.

"Nope."

I was going to add a few more words to that, but I decided to shut up.

The man put on a thoughtful look before responding.

"School is better with a girlfriend. It gives you a..." he struggled to find the right word, but settled with, "... motivation."

I nodded and my heart sunk.

Eventually the bus came, and we boarded. He got on well before I did, and when I boarded I automatically made my way to the back, where I preferred to sit. But then I thought. How would I feel if I had been talking to somebody and then suddenly they disappeared? Perhaps it was pity. Maybe it was empathy and relatability. More likely it was a huge ugly mess of a bunch of those emotions.

So I stopped. I turned around, mumbled a quick apology to the person I was blocking, and took a seat perpendicular the man. He smiled and patted the seat in front of him, and I moved there after a moment of hesitation.

It was near impossible to hear his voice against the sounds of the bus and the world speeding by, but I nodded along at what felt like the right times and frowned at what seemed like the wrong times. After several of these exchanges, he gestured to something behind me.

In the back of my head I knew what he was pointing at. While I couldn't hear complete sentences, I knew that he had been talking about girlfriends - specifically how to get one. It was easy he said, all you needed to do was talk to them and then ask them if they want to go out with you. But things are rarely ever that simple.

Turning my head around I saw what he was gesturing at and confirmed my thoughts. An Asian girl was sitting a few rows behind us, eyes on her phone and a slight smile to her. I quickly averted my gaze and turned back to the man. He raised his eyebrows, daring me. I shook my head feverishly. Conventionally she may have been pretty, but she was not to me.

When it became apparent that I was not going to do anything, he called me a chicken.

I briefly contemplated explaining everything to the man, but I decided to shut up again. I wouldn't "do it" even if I wasn't like this, so maybe I am a chicken.

The voice of the nice lady who sounds kinda robotic comes on the speakers, and announced the next stop, which happened to be his. He held out his fist and I rapped my knuckles against his.

"What's your name?"

"Kevin. What about you?"

He just smiled, as if his name wasn't important. As he wheeled out to the aisle, he said to me, "Goodbye Kevin. Try not to be too much of a chicken."

=====

There is more to the story that I have written, but my writing is not skilled or expressive enough to do it justice, and in the end I have left out many points. In addition, I have sensationalized several events, but what I wrote is largely what actually happened. Naturally there is a good bit of paraphrasing going on, but the core remains the same.

Ultimately it was not the experience I imagined, not the epiphanic talk with an elderly man wise with age that I always thought it would be. Yet there is something special about such an encounter. Something about how unexpected it was.

Sorry.

My syntax are trash.

I'll try.

48/Green

-A

"Kat, I'd do anything for you," his voice was laced with desperation, his hands clenched on her shoulders.

The woman looked at him intentlyGREEN, before caressing the man's cheek with her right hand. She smiled.

"Anything?"


A

Ms. Harrow peered over the reception desk to see that the man was still sitting in the chair, counting to himself. He was young, likely not even 30 yet. Dressed in a navy blue suit and a white dress shirt, the man's face was gaunt, his eye bags large, and his dark black hair messy with what little sleep he got. By no means was he unattractive, thought the young secretary, a little bit of fixing up and he'd be quite the looker. But there was certainly something off about him, not to mention a slight feeling that she had met him before. Ms. Harrow shrugged and thought nothing more of it - there were plenty of unique characters at this company.

"Mr. Sneed, was it?"

The man continued counting.

Ms. Harrow allowed herself out from behind the desk and started walking towards him. As she approached, she could hear the man's counting more clearly.

"forty-six... forty-seven... forty... eight."

Upon reaching the number, the man snapped out of his trance, and his eyes shot up from the floor to the young lady who was now standing in front of him.

"Mr. Sneed, it is time for your interview."

"Ah, yes," replied the man. His voice was coarse as sand, as if he had spent the last decade in the desert without speaking. He stood up and Ms. Harrow led him to a set of tinted glass doors. To the right of the doors there was a metal panel, with a small red dot glowing.

Ms. Harrow gave the door three quick knocks. She proceeded to walk away and said to the man, "Good luck, I'm cheering for you," while giving him a slight smile. The man nodded in response, while offering a half smile.

The man stood there, waiting for something to happen. Just as he was about to turn back and ask for the secretary, he heard a click, and he glanced at the metal panel.

Green.

It was a nice colour, not unlike the green one would see during the Christmas season. Yet something made the man uneasy. A lump formed in his throat, his body started to burn up, and his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. The light lasted for perhaps two seconds, but it felt like forever to the man until the double doors swung open and the man walked in, relieved to be away from the light.

The doors shut behind him, and there was nothing but a woman sitting at an empty white table. The room was quite dimly lit, save the desk, however the man could tell that the entire room was white. Even the chair across from the woman was pure white. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, the man walked up to the desk, his shoes clacking on the floor, and took a seat.

When he looked up, he was met with intense gaze of the woman.

Green.

Again, the man felt uneasy, however he couldn't pull himself away. He was sinking in her eyes and the green and all of it. There was something so familiar, and his heart wanted to burst open, knowing that he would never have anything as beautiful as those eyes. His body ached and longed for something, something he didn't know.

Finally the woman blinked, and the man took the brief respite to avert his eyes to his lap.

"Mr. Sneed. I'm happy that you could make it out here today," said the woman. Her voice was soothing and relaxed, but her tone was one of power and confidence, as if she knew all the secrets of the world.

Without looking up, the man responded, "The pleasure is mine." He knew that there was a grin on her face, he could feel it in the air.

The woman procured papers from some place and the man could hear their shuffling on the desk. "Let us be begin then, shall we?"

The man nodded.

"Tell me... why are you interested in working for this company?"

"You see," the man paused, then continued, "I've been interested in the field for a very long time, ever since Alter's experiments on rats a decade ago, well, that was revolutionary to say the least." He closed his eyes as he spoke, still looking down.

More papers shuffled around, breaking the eerie silence.

The woman picked out one sheet. "Ah, it appears that you've left your profile information blank."

"Oh," the man gulped, "the thing is that I actually can't remember those things. I couldn't do it while I was waiting in reception, I don't know why." The man thought about it, and he realized he truly could not remember anything. What did he have for breakfast? What high school did he go to? What was his mom's name? What was... his own name?

"Memory problems huh," the woman reached from behind the table and brought out a box of white pills, each about the size of a pea, and said, "Take this, it's meant to temporarily add clarity to your memories and also helps you recollect recent memories. One of the best selling products here."

The man perked up.

She sat the box down in front of the man, and continued, "Take one and you'll see. It'll take forty-eight seconds to completely take effect, but that's one of our fastest reaction times."

The man needed it. He needed it now. His hands felt across the table for the capsule, knocking it to the floor in the process. He scrambled for it in a mad panic, leaping out of his chair. Why couldn't he remember anything? What was wrong with him?

His hands shook as he undid the lid and hastily snatched a single pill from the box. He slammed the pill down his throat and swallowed it.

One.

Suddenly there was a searing pain in his head, as if somebody was pouring molten lead directly into his thoughts. He rammed his eyes shut and wrapped his head between his hands, shaking back and forth, whimpering like a dog.

Five.

The woman got up, and slowly walked to the man. Her heels made a clack with the floor, synchronizing with each second that passed.

Ten.

He could feel her presence looming over her.

"You know, it is polite to say thank you after you've been given something."

The man opened his eyes, and GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN the entire room was GREEN, the floor, the table, the pills, everything was utterly and only GREEN. GREEN was everything and anything that he ever knew, there was nothing else.

Sixteen.

"Isn't that right," the woman bent down and cradled the man's head in her hands, "John?"

Her vibrant GREEN eyes bore holes into his, and she smiled.

"Don't you remember me, John? How could you forget the woman you loved?" Her face was one of feigned sadness, but underneath her smile was a mischief, a playfulness.

John looked into her GREENeyes, and everything came tearing back into his memory. Countless dinners in the candlelight, movies at the local theater, watching the tail of her coat whip past the door of her apartment, everything.

Twenty-seven.

The woman's eyesGREEN lit up as she saw the fragments of the man trying futilely to pull himself together.

"Ah so you remember now," she said.

Wincing through the excruciating pain, John managed to stammer, "W-why are you doing this to me?"

The woman's smile grew even bigger.

"Why darling, didn't you say you'd do anything for me?"

Thirty-nine.

"Now now, it'll all be fine," she cooed, "After all, you won't remember a thing."

The woman looked down at her watch, and thought, today's trial was not so bad.

"... forty-six... forty-seven" and she brought her gaze back to John.

"Forty... eight."

Z

43

it's 43
i'm 18
43 tired
43 sad
43 tight
43 fake
43 slow
43 painful
43 tried
18
5 forgotten
8 carefree
3 forgotten
2 best
1 start
4 more
too much
can't do it
too tired

pretend






















i'm okay

melodramatic
attentioner

A post that coincidentally comes after Halloween

I've been going through some personal problems and today I came to the realization that I don't really have any close friends. Right now my emotions are a mixture of both self-pity, shame, and embarrassment. For somebody who has always considered himself social and easy to get along with, where has everybody gone? It feels as if I'm going at life all alone and that I'm nothing but an add-on to friend groups.

The people that I have cherished and held closest in my life (asides from family) have disappeared without a trace. Some have moved onto the farther and greater places, others are right next door but they may as well be on the other side of the world. I feel as though the amount of meaningful interactions in my life have dropped ever since I started school, and I'm genuinely terrified that I'll go through the next four years without developing significant relationships with others.

In this moment I can't think of a single friend who would consider me first to ask to hang out. I don't know how everything got so bad.

I know that all I've said sounds bleak, and that I'm going against my belief that everything will always turn out better in the end, but right now things aren't going that well.

I just feel lonely.