Thursday, August 19, 2010

★24 手紙

Dear Subaru,


I listened to your song just now and I wondered how it felt to write it. When I want to write the words don't seem to come out. Well, they come out sometimes – something always does; but I still feel alone.


You see, I have nowhere to go right now. I have nowhere to go and I'm afraid.


I've been trying really hard to be someone that can succeed, someone that finishes what she starts, someone that can be happy.....But I've failed. I couldn't do it. And now I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I don't know how to get better. I don't know how to make myself better. I don't know how to deal with my pain so that it won't interfere with my life. Every time I've tried I end up back here, in this dark pit (which seems to only get deeper and deeper every time). I've always been able to take that step forward. But this time – this time I think I'm stuck. Because this time I know where I'll end up after it all crashes down again and I can't keep coming back here. I can't keep going in circles. I've tired myself out. I've driven myself to the ground. Everything hurts now. My eternal well of hope, the one that has always sustained me until now is running dangerously low. And I'm afraid. Is this what it means to die inside? I don't want to die inside. I don't want to run dry. I don't want to be a void of nothing.


You always sing about flowers and blooming and I believed in your words. I still do. I think your words are beautiful. I think – if he did it then I can too. I definitely will. But I haven't. It's been three years since I came to Japan and I haven't. I've learned so much and yet nothing at all. Everything has changed and yet nothing has. I'm not the same person I was when I came and yet I'm completely the same. And I've realized, I'm broken. Japan has been like a cast, a wonderful treatment, but the cast is starting to fall off and I'm still broken. Because casts don't work. So if I put on a new one, what's the point? And if casts don't work.... what does? What can?


You always sing about flowers and blooming and I believed in your words.

I wanted to be one of those flowers.


Somewhere deep down there's a seed somewhere. But the landscape is wet and muddy and when I manage to find that seed of (light and life and meaning) it slips from my grasp before I can nurture it properly.


Today someone asked me what color my soul was. I said sky blue because I picture my soul to be like the sky. It's endless and clear and many things can pass through it. Right now my sky is gray, maybe black. But, even if it's black, under it the blue still exists, right? So really, it's still blue. There's something under all of this, right?


He also asked me what I thought I was in a past life. I said a sunflower. They're my favorite flowers. They're bright and big and chase the dark away. I thought, surely at some point I've been able to give that light. And if someone saw me in a field, or in a vase on a table somewhere, and if they smiled... then I meant something. For the season I bloomed I meant something.


You always sing about flowers and blooming and starting over and letting things go.


I thought that's what I was doing. I thought I was blooming. I thought I could be beautiful and bring something bright into this world. I wanted it more than anything.


But I'm not bright. And I'm not blooming.


I'm withering.

Withering.

Slowly withering.

Sadly withering.


Did my time come and go?


Will I see the blue of my soul?


Is my seed lost forever?


Will these broken parts ever heal?


If I can't bloom, if I can't do do anything at all, is it ok to just wither away?


Should I just wither away with the seasons....


Disappear....


Some people are flowers.


And then maybe others are just weeds.


I thought I was a flower.

Now I'm not so sure.


I'm sorry I couldn't bloom like you.

I'm sorry I can't be strong anymore.

I'm sorry because I know I could've been better than this.


I'm sorry.


I'm sorry I couldn't do it alone.


You always sing about flowers and blooming and I believed in your words.

I still do.


But I don't know how to bloom.

I've tried but I wither and I don't know how.


Will you tell me how you did it?


Do you think I can?


I wanted to be a flower too.


I'm sorry.


Yours,

A Fallen Petal

A Dark Sky

A Lost Seed

A Broken Shell.