If Cats Disappeared from the World

by Genki Kawamura

The fact of the matter is, in reality people tend to be surprisingly calm when they hear news like this. When I found out my diagnosis, the first thought that popped into my head was that I was one stamp away from earning a free massage at the spa, and also that I shouldn’t have stocked up on so much toilet paper and laundry detergent during my last shopping trip. But it wasn’t long until I was overcome by a bottomless sadness. I was only thirty years old. Okay, I know that means that I’ve lived longer than Hendrix and Basquiat, but somehow I felt like I still had a lot of unfinished business. There must be something, I didn’t know what, but something on this planet that only I was meant to accomplish. But I didn’t really dwell on any of this. Instead I wandered in a daze until I reached the train station, where I spotted a couple of young guys playing guitar and singing. This life will someday have to end, so until that final day arrives, Do what you want to do, do it, do all you can, That’s how you face tomorrow.

but now, for the first time ever, it occurred to me that maybe this little act of comfort was what life was all about.

When human beings invented the mobile phone, they also invented the anxiety that comes with not having one on you.

With the invention of mobile phones, the idea of not being able to find the person you’re supposed to be meeting disappeared. People forgot what it meant to be kept waiting.

the list of things that I wanted to do was made up of things that didn’t really matter in the end.

He was right; even jellyfish exist for a reason—even they have meaning. And if that’s the case, I wondered if perhaps movies, music, coffee, and pretty much everything else had some kind of meaning as well.

To live means to cry, to shout, to love, to do silly things, to feel sadness and joy, to laugh, even to experience horrible, frightening things. Beautiful songs, beautiful scenery, nausea, people singing, planes flying across the sky, the thundering hooves of horses, mouthwatering pancakes, the endless darkness of space, cowboys firing their pistols at dawn

My hope is that my life will go on to live in the memories of others who’ve witnessed my story.

With freedom comes uncertainty, insecurity, and anxiety. Human beings exchanged their freedom for the sense of security that comes from living by set rules and routines—despite knowing that they pay the cost of these rules and regulations with their freedom.

This made me realize I had to cherish every moment I had left to live. Everything began to feel very meaningful and important. With the time I had left, how many more walks would I be able to take with Cabbage? How many more times would I be able to listen to my favorite songs? Enjoy a cup of coffee or a good meal? Say good morning, sneeze, or laugh?

A lot of people buy into the slogan “Live life like there’s no tomorrow.” But I tend to disagree. Once you become aware of your impending death, you have to make a compromise in accepting the loss of the life you wish you could have led and the reality of your imminent death. Sure, there will always be regrets and broken dreams, but you have to go easy on yourself. Over the last few days, I’ve come to realize that there’s a certain beauty in those regrets. They’re proof of having lived.