Fault Lines

by Emily Itami

There are thirty-seven million of us in Tokyo alone—it has the effect of making it damn clear just how unimportant you are. Which is heartbreaking or relaxing, depending on how you look at it.

Having a secret makes me feel like nobody owns me, and that any opinion of me could always be inaccurate; no one has the whole picture, so it’s like trying to judge somebody’s appearance from a shard of broken mirror.

How many times have I wished I could be outside myself, outside all my limitations and neuroses, so I could make a different decision and live a different life? Now,