I still wonder who it is I am. I still struggle to recall my time abroad more clearly, but much of the good days are faint in light of the first week (filled with panic) and the later days (sickness, and disappointment). Sometimes I worry that much of my memories are only a dream; but occasionally reality has stepped in. I’ve said goodbye for good to some special people, but I wonder how many others, my memories of them shadowed, would thrill to see me back again? Are they still there?

I begin to think that maybe half of my “memories” of Japan are dreams. But…the brightest ones, the clearest ones, those I am certain are true. A few nights with dear ones now gone; a few evenings at the pubs; a few strange meetings or just moments of confusion in the clubs… But overall, my memories are this:

A clean, comfortable room that smells of wood and sunshine and comfort. A woman always ready with a laugh at my antics – however strange they were – and words of wisdom for my troubles. A woman I never…really appreciated openly. She probably still thinks I wasn’t fond of her cooking (It was fantastic enough to change my tastes for food; even so far as making my body reject many foods that are not so good for me.) which saddens me. I miss the smell of the house. I miss the wonderful organization (except immediately after school ended each day, when my desk exploded with clutter) and the joy of keeping things clean. She actually was puzzled by how clean things were – I kept them so out of joy, and respect for her. I don’t know if she ever saw the room during one of my creative or working phases (I think she’d have been awfully shocked! Scattered stuff everywhere!) I miss the walking. It was always an adventure, no matter how simple the route. Especially being what I am – there was so much more for me to see! I miss the smells and the food and the fact that there was always a healthy alternative to all of my addictions (though I did smoke throughout my stay, it was my stay that made it easy to quit upon my return).

I still fear to return, though I long for it as well. What if the people I met there didn’t really like me? What if I go back and no one wants to see me? What if I can never have an experience so wonderful? It distresses me, leaves me torn. On the one hand, I long to return, to be in a country that constantly challenges me yet welcomes me if I can meet those challenges. On the other hand, I’m terrified that I couldn’t possibly manage it. And now there is the heart to pull me away – I don’t want to leave him, not yet. I do love him, and while that love would not fade with distance… I adore my cuddles and even these weeks apart make me feel a bit lonely. We shall see how the rest of the summer proceeds.

Still, the question is not “Can I do it?” I know I can, no matter what. There is nothing that could stop me from being back there, though it would not be the same, I would make it just as fulfilling an experience. No, now I have to wonder.

Do I want to?

I find myself staring out my window at the lights and the darkness, at how close the darkness is creeping in. The globe across the street seeks to light up not the world, but itself, leaving the surroundings bathed in shadow. I like it this way…the darkness feels like a companion, a stealthy creature others cry out against trusting, but… I feel safe in it. I dare not flick on a light yet, for fear it will send the darkness into offended flight, and then my companion will become my enemy. I suppose I am one of those demented individuals, having such a fondness for shadow and night, but as long as I do not push it away, darkness protects me more than light ever could. Still…

It’s cold. I long for the sunlight, for the warmth of it upon my shoulders, my face. I had that this afternoon, but now the darkness holds me and does little to achieve extra warmth. If it were close darkness, confined darkness, I know it would succeed, but I would find myself fast asleep if I gave in to that urge and huddled under blankets – and I hate having my face marked with the impressions of my keyboard. I haven’t yet decided if I feel lonely – it’s hard to feel so, knowing that to disrupt this solitude would lead to a shift of my present mood.

Perhaps this would guide me to be more productive, but I’m comfortable here.

And besides, being productive would require a light.

Back to the dreaming in darkness. Til I draw myself out of the world of shadow and focus again on reality.

To pull out of the rambling, there are some things that have begun to cut into me, and I only wish I could fully articulate this in a sense of normalcy but this is not to be. You must first understand that if I consider something truly shameful, I tell no others about it when I truly desire to do it. I consider very few things at this level. Furthermore, if I consider something a danger to me, you never find out until it’s done. I had the thought, the desire, but rationality has taken over and my love for those who love me was enough to make me rethink the decision.

But when you, in your self-righteous casting of stones, begin to belittle me for even considering it, when you rant and rave and insult. You take yourself of my list of reasons why I shouldn’t do a thing. Your reaction makes me reconsider again, and maybe want it a little more. It’s like smoking – if you interrupted my smoke to scold or nag, I would light another as soon as I finished the first. Your rants made me want it more. I don’t want your acceptance of it, but I want you to trust that I am not a complete idiot, otherwise I will badger you and infuriate you to make sure you understand how you made me feel.

I know the cost. I don’t need the substance. But if you desire to discourage me, appeal to me with questions and calm. If you become angry or belligerent, my only desire is to lash out at you – no matter how much I love you. And what better way to do it than to destroy myself with the very reason for your so insulting reaction?

My consideration, my “I’m thinking about…” translates almost without fail to “Eh, it’s cool, but I’m not going to bother.” and I fail to understand how so many have yet to recognize this. Unless I hate myself, I will fight this kind of madness to the very end. If you want to see how close I am to doing something this kind of stupid, check my arms. My flesh. If it is unmarred, there’s no chance of anything else being done to my body.

Personally, I’m proud of myself. I can have the desire and never give in. I can fight it. In less dangerous cases, I may choose to give in, but only in a very, very few. And even those I’ve learned to control. So tell me this – can you say the same? Can you want something, want to know, to understand, and turn your back and walk away? Can you say you wanted something dangerous, really wanted it and considered just giving in and letting yourself have it, but pulled back? Have you been around the source of a former addiction, and wanted it so badly your body -ached- for it…and still refuse?

I’ve managed it. Because what you fail to accept is something so simple.

I like myself. I respect myself. I know better.

I just wish you could do the same.

I’d tell everyone I was lying when I said I liked him…and be brave, and tell the truth about who it was. But the one I really liked was my teacher – my mentor. I was already a charity case – how much more awkward would it have been if I had told him I found him attractive? …if I’d told him I had wished the groans had been from something other than a back massage.
I never would have stayed in a relationship that broke me not long after it began – and I’d have been proud to inform him that he could go fuck himself. Because I was as normal as I would ever want to be.
I’d focus more on the dance I now love so much, and fight harder against my cowardice. Because I can be better. I know I can – but I still lack the strength I need for the more interesting moves.
I would throw myself into the language I adore, and make that mental block explode.

If I could go back to year two…
I’d have stayed through fall, but still asked to be transferred to a triple in the spring. …because that semester is the only one I would never, ever change.
I’d have been grinding for more scholarships if I did decide to go to Japan – or at least, fighting to keep the Japanese I’d learned more intensively the year before. (Of course, only now do I know I can do it.)
I would have slept less, and partied more. Because she’s a blast to hang out with, and so are the people I met through her – but was unsure of because of the boyfriend.

If I could go back to last semester…
If in Japan, I’d have been less of a coward about the language. I could make it sound decent even when I had no idea what the hell I was saying.
I would have explored so much more.
I would never have said aishiteru in the way that I thought I meant it. Because…though I do love him. It’s not the kind of love I originally thought – you are a guide, and a wonderful friend, and I love you. But that’s it. Thank you for letting me see that.
I would have spent more time near the ocean, and more time in the mountains.
If here, I’d have been busy having a blast with my friends – because I know you really do like me, though I didn’t think that before. …thank you all, for being there for me.

I wish I could say I was drunk. But I’m not. I just needed to write this. …I would change very little about my past – because everything that has happened has ended in something wonderful. …thank you, my beloved friends, teachers, mentors, “crushes”, and new family. …you give me strength.
…but I am so tired.
And I blame you, Kristin. (But I still love you. And I know you’ll weasel out of the blame anyway.)
Goodnight.

But that involved moving about the room, and she just wasn’t quite in the mood for that yet. Time had not been available to make this room her own, nor had the weather been kind enough to make it easy to gather the few things she required to do so. A baleful glare was sent out the cracks of the blinds, before her head dropped back to the wall, eyes closing as she sighed.

“I did not expect this…” The voice startled her into opening her eyes. Her first thought was of the locked door, and windows. Her second of recognition. And her third of impossibility. “To find you wallowing here…what has become of the woman I knew?”

“…I…” She took a breath, watching as he stood smirking at her with his arms crossed over his chest. Just like the last time they had spent any time together. Before they said goodbye. “I wish I knew…”

“You never spoke like that for me.” He murmured, moving to crawl up onto the bed beside her, slumping against her as a hand found her own. “I do not believe this place agrees with you.”

“Nowhere does.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with the woman I knew?” He chuckled a bit, but when she turned her head to look up at him, never lifting it from the wall, his amusement turned into a frown. “…you are not playing.”

“No.” She let out a sigh, turning her face away again, eyes closing once more. It was hard enough to admit this to herself, and she had to say it out loud…if only to a figment of her imagination. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m just like I was before I left, though less messed up by being embroiled in lies. I…I found myself, and now I’ve lost it and I don’t know what to do.”

“Find it again.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how I did it in the first place.” She smiled a little, leaning back. “You helped, I think. You, along with a few others in my journey, reminded me that I only have this life to myself for certain. We don’t know what comes next, and so I need to stop fighting life and just live.”

“Others?” He scoffed, nudging her head with his own. “I thought I was special. So special you kept your mouth shut about me. Did you keep these others quiet, too?”

“Yes…” She grinned as he made an offended noise. “You were my friend, I made you all on my own…along with several others. I told you about them, you arrogant -”

“Arrogant?”

“…you’re a figment of my imagination, you could at least be fluent to help me.” She whispered, closing her eyes as she felt tears rising up. “You’ll fade away soon enough regardless, and I’ll struggle to finding myself, finding what triggers my poison and what my joy, alone.”

“…you are never alone.” He murmured. “Wasurenaide…”

She nodded, sighing as her head dropped back, and she looked at the empty space beside her. She had friends, she could name many of them. But how many could see the difference? The person she had become was the person she was before she ever left, and very few recognized that this was not exactly the healthiest soul in a body.

To be honest, it was more this strange shattered black glass that was stabbing outward at random. And though it had not been so for a time – such a short time, to mean so much – it was right back to normal. The ones she knew could see it were too disturbed or damaged by it to help.

She flopped over, scowling slightly.

“I love this place. But I want to be back there…where I was healthy…”

You see. I fucked up. I told myself an outright lie. I told myself “This is why I’m doing this.” …but that wasn’t the truth. I knew it to start out with, I told myself the real reason to start out with…but when I didn’t get the response I expected, I swore that the lie was true – and in the end, I convinced myself.

I didn’t go to Japan for my job. I wanted to change majors. I didn’t go to Japan for the experience. It was much like home, except I couldn’t understand anything said. I didn’t go to Japan to increase my fluency in Japanese. I had no interest in being fluent when I applied.

I applied to the program because I wanted to be told “No.” Not by the program – but by the one I loved. I wanted selfishness. I wanted a claim. …I never got it. When it didn’t come, and I was accepted, I swore no one would ever know. I convinced myself – only to have the truth slap me in the face in a weak moment, because I failed even in the secondary reasons. Because I failed to complete the program.

So, as the weakness lead to over indulgence, it’s no wonder that in the midst of a drunken haze, the truth outed. At the moment, I can’t think. I keep looking to the “what if” and it hurts.

I can’t change the past. And the present is already happening. The future, unfortunately, has settled itself out quite nicely for the time being.

But at the least…I can be honest. To myself, and to all of you.

I applied to the program hoping to stir some sense of possessiveness. I failed. I carried out the trip hoping to succeed and complete the year with little suffering. I failed. I am now picking up the pieces, and I have to hope I can make something worthwhile out of them. Still, I doubt it will happen.

I feel alone. I am haunted by sorrow.

But it is done.

I have lost.

So I hopped out there, to the last rock on one of Tojinbo’s peninsula’s. It was beautiful, it was thrilling, it was – why did the boys look panicked? OH MY GOD. That wave is huge! OH MY GOD, that’s going to come up to my knees. I turned, and started hopping my way back, but the ocean is, as ever, faster than a human could believe. I felt it around my ankle, and the swirl tugged just enough – I fell.

There was pain, and then panic, as I felt the water wrap around my waist and my body start to slip away just slightly. But my knee had landed in a hollow in the rock, and I had enough time to throw myself forward and cling to it. I was lucky. The waves caught my shoulders, tugged, but I remained on the rock – they returned to the whole alone.

I was laughing as I rejoined them. I was cold for a second, then I couldn’t feel my body. I was fine! It was a good joke, and even better, John got it on video! Priceless! I have surpassed my own record of stupid moments to be clumsy! I changed, and settled back into the bus seat…and then John let me watch the video.

And it all came rushing back. The panic. The horror. The feel of the waves wrapping around me like a blanket, soothing, pleading, pulling…so gentle, so loving – and yet all at once, terribly powerful.

I understand why I have always loved the ocean, despite never having been in it or viewed it prior to coming to Japan. Never having neared it in such a mood before today. It is beauty, it is grace – it is strength. I am glad my body acted of its own accord at that moment – because as the waves wrapped around me, my mind longed to let go and be taken away. To be consumed by this great power.

Tethys called – and I…I nearly answered.

And honestly…I feel like I mean nothing, and will never mean anything, to anyone again. I thought I meant so much to him, but now, replaced, I begin to wonder. What am I, to anyone? If he, who claimed to love me so much, could replace me within two months, who will do so next?

My heart aches…my heart…aches…and crying eases it only a little – and cry I have…

But it does little more than remind me that this too, shall pass.

I’ve been used to being alone for a while now, but…

I still had someone I loved, that I thought still loved me.

I don’t anymore. Oh, I love him still – more fool am I – but…

My heart beats alone…

I could actually feel myself dropping into the muck the university places below me. Why say you’ve gotten a certain form of aid, when it’s been denied? This is the second time this has happened, and I’m getting frustrated. Is it the poor kids they’re going for? What, do we not live up to their expectations of what the university should be? This is bullshit.

I’m scared. I’m upset. I think I made a mistake. I should have waited to go to college. I didn’t understand what I was getting myself into. And…and there’s nothing I can do now. Except keep hoping for it to all be a dream. To wake up before I set foot on this sick, twisted, deceitful road of college life. It won’t happen, but it’s all I have left.

Unless I can write a damn bestseller – which with my writer’s block, will not be happening any time soon.

Maybe I can manage an essay to blow some scholarship out of the water. That’d be nice. But my writing has been miserable and disjointed lately – and my health hasn’t helped matters along.

Help me. Please, gods, let me find my way out of this mess…I can’t keep going like this. I really, really can’t. The despair is just too much to handle.