Kitamura Yusaku: The Tangled Male
Dear, my Entitled-Self (virtually ahead in time)
I am currently experiencing the early lane of the road. My remorse, guilt, sorrow, annoyance and despise has piled up too much to erase, too much to complain about, too much to say anything of, too much to cry about- too much for me to handle.
I am but an ignorant child who cannot understand the meaning of Life. Surely, this incompetent beating heart of mine has experienced portions of it. Yet, who am I to know what an experience is than a memory? My memory is an eclipse in time. There would be times where I do not remember and times I wished to have. The memory is but a short vision of what can happen and be recorded like a video camera.
Therefore, I say my existence is nothing but a lie.
I know the red blood that flows into me and the oxygen I inhale is but a fragrance of Earth along with the DNA of two people. The people I met are just moving, breathing, talking apparitions. The words I hear belong to anyone and no one. The visions I see are illusions of the senses. The brain brings forth the imagination and conducts the maintenance of all the senses can absorb.
Emotions are lucid and expresses the individuality of a person. Nevertheless, that sense of individuality tends to overlap with others. My individuality is gone; it is taken by all of those around me, absorbed by them and transformed into theirs.
Do I even exist? I do not know why I exist or what my reason for being alive is. That does not change the fact I feel fake. This body of mine is anything but mine. Surely I could process thought, move and project like those apparitions, but that makes me seem even more plastic. I cannot seem to accept the thoughts of life, yet I have such contradictory actions.
I am a hypocrite. I wish, want, hope and desire the many ties I have on this Earth to never leave my side, to never change. However, I know that forever is not preserved. These nice things will leave my side. For example, my favorite things disappear beneath my grasp. My scarce comrades linger between the line of adoration and detest, of truth and lie, of reality and illusion.
Surely, any ill-fated child would gladly trade their sorrowful past, their grotesque present and unmeasured future for mine. Who could not? Who would not? I am unbelievably blessed with family, money, food, clothes and a roof over my head. For that same reason, when I see another whose fate is inevitably polar opposite to my own, I have the urge, the hunger, the temptation to switch lives with them. This is Jealousy. Those people have something I could never dream of having, much less experiencing.
Why is it that all I say come to life? Why is it that I have this foreboding sense of premonition? Why is it that I lack the sense of belonging? Why is it that I do not feel human? Why is it that I cannot help but be a phantom? Why is that I feel that I must die? Most of all, when I accept the concept of death, others die before me instead.
Maybe it is because I never really had the attention I deserved. Probably because there are various new things I am currently experiencing. Inevitably, I do not have an answer.
I wonder, is it because I have wished it, that all which connect to me are faced with misfortune? I wonder that if someone knew this, would they be surprised and brush off my apathetic voice? Would they leave me like the rest of my favorite things? Would they blame me? Would they cry for their mistakes? Would they even notice that I was suffering?
I have visualized various scenarios where I face disastrous perils. Frankly, no matter how many times it went through my brain, I did not feel anything. No, numbness is another entirely different concept to this vast, dark and solitary place where my heart lies.
The course of Life is such a paradox. Imaginably, as one has said, "In Life, there is Death." This never-ending cycles has continued and it's not going to slow down or stop all for the sake of one individual.
Ironically enough, I sit at my bed in the hospital writing this. I do not know if what I am doing is-was right… All I could thought was never to look back and keep my pace. I still have not found anything. Moreover, I feel like I lost more things than anything. I woke up and found myself in the hospital triple strapped. Later, I learned that this precaution was because of my bandage wrist and raw throat- suicide attempts that (un)fortunately failed. A psychiatrist comes over every now and then to check on my mental health and since that time, with my sanity in tact, there were no visitors. First, it was because of my own dangers. From here on out, it's because I requested none. I feel this enormous need to forget who, where, what, how I am. And with this…I think I could do that, even if it is just a moment. For I know, my hospital door will come crashing down soon after they realize. Now, what in Heaven's name will that be?
Do you know? Have they changed? Are you content and happy? Did the way things were changed? Are you enjoying life now, myself or is someone else reading this letter? Have you found all those things you lost? Or are they plain in sight for you now? Are you still hesitating? Do you feel real? Have you found your place?
I will be in your heart waiting for an answer.