Your Name.

by Makoto Shinkai

Where do human memories live? Are they in the synaptic circuitry of the brain? Do retinas and fingertips hold memories, too? Or is there an invisible, amorphous, mistlike, spiritual collective somewhere, and that’s where the memories reside? Something we’d call the heart or the mind or the soul. Is it something you can take out and stick back in, like a memory card with an OS on it?

Fine, I think defiantly. Even if the world is cruel, even if all I have is loneliness, I’ll still live with everything I’ve got. Even if this emotion is all I have, I’ll keep struggling. Even if we’re separated, even if we never meet again, I’ll fight. As if I’d ever resign myself to this! The powerful, fleeting resolution feels as though I’m picking a fight with the gods. Very soon, I’ll forget even the fact that I’ve forgotten something.

I’m in love. We’re in love. That means we’ll meet again. I’m sure of it. And so I’ll live. I’ll survive this. No matter what happens, even if the stars fall, I will live.