Diary of a Void

by Emi Yagi

So this is pregnancy. What luxury. What loneliness.

Isn’t that what people always did? Go their own way, never even bothering to let you know?

I just hope you managed to live your life the way you wanted, to take naps when you felt like it, to know yourself by a name that made sense to you.

Everywhere I looked, I saw ghosts, still stuck here in this old house, even though my brother and I had grown up and left years ago.

“I don’t know what ‘expensive’ is for you, or why it matters if you live on your own or not, but I think you should make your place look the way you want, before you forget what that is.”

How long had it been since I’d walked anywhere, even around my own neighborhood, with other women like this?

I couldn’t keep up. That’s why I can’t even remember what I’ve watched anymore. It’s a blur, most of the characters who have appeared on my screen simply passing through me.

The internet’s a great place for finding out about stuff you’re kind of interested in, but it can’t really help with the things you really want to know. It’s even worse for things you don’t know anything about.

Maybe that’s what making a family is all about: creating an environment in which people make space for one another—maybe without even trying, just naturally, to make sure that nobody’s forgotten.

I suddenly wanted something of my own, something to make space for. Even if it was just my own and no one else could even see it—something like a lie. And maybe if I could really hold on to that thing, a snowy night like tonight might become something else, something just a little different.