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Why does the night have to be so beautiful? As I walk through the night, I remember what Mitsutsuka said to me. “Because at night, only half the world remains.”
Why is the night made up entirely of light?
The light at night is special because the overwhelming light of day has left us, and the remaining half draws on everything it has to keep the world around us bright.
How did I pass the stretch of several hours that came night after night before I went to sleep?
I don’t think I’d ever once considered quitting the company, much less doing this work independently, but now that it had been put into words, words that I then whispered again in my own head, the possibility had somehow taken on a terribly realistic weight and resonance, to the point where I began to feel as if this were my only choice, that it had always been my only choice, a happy turn of events that made me feel like I could blush.
I started laughing, in an odd way that betrayed the fact that I was used to living my life in a daze, without giving anything much thought.
the feeling that I had done something I could never undo clung to my back and began to pull me down. With every step I took, a veil of darkness came down over all I saw.
We get this all the time as women, right? Like, if you make plenty of money but don’t have any kids, you might get called successful. But unless you have kids, no one will ever call you a great woman. You know what I mean?”
To me, it’s crazy. I don’t care what we’re talking about—God, divine providence, nature, some super-energy, the universe . . . Why would any force like that ever get caught up with stupid tiny human beings and their stupid, even tinier human problems?”
“Their so-called spirituality is completely self-serving, designed to make them happy, or make the people around them think they’ve found some kind of happiness. It’s this shallow belief in immediate profit.
Whatever answer’s on that paper, I don’t want it, unless I get there on my own, using my own head. I’ll decide what I’m going to do with my own life.”
I’m a woman, but that was exactly why I couldn’t let it go. I’m going to have to keep working with this guy. It’s up to you to make your own environment, right?
“It’s not like I want people to hate me. I’m just not about to go out of my way to make them like me, either. Being liked is wonderful and all, but that’s not what life is about, you know?”
They say it’s different for me. That not everyone is as strong as I am, that most people are weak or whatever. But that’s not it. They aren’t weak. They’re dull. They don’t pick up on things. And I’m not strong. I’m honest. Anyway, who cares what’s fashionable? How can anybody go through life thinking about crap like that? This is just my personality—it’s who I am.”
Standing there inside of that bright noise, I began to feel confused about how one goes about wandering aimlessly.
“Um, do you think the light you’re thinking about and the light I’m talking about are, um, the same thing?” “Of course they are,” Mitsutsuka said with a smile. “We’re talking about the same
As I walked home with my mind wandering, I thought about the books that I had looked through in the bookstore. It occurred to me that they were full of things that people wanted to say to other people, or things people wanted somebody to say to them.
“Well, some people say it feels that way for kids because they haven’t been around for long, or had that much experience with time,” Mitsutsuka said. “Of course, there’s no way to prove that.” “Does that mean that the longer we live, the more it feels like time speeds up?” I asked.
“And if that’s true, what’s memory anyway?” I shook my head and crossed my arms. “I mean, there are way too many things you’ll never remember. Sometimes a memory jumps out at you, even though almost everything is lost forever. But what if all the things that we can’t remember are actually the most important ones?” At this point, something inside me cracked, and I began to laugh out loud.
“That’s right. As long as you’re living on this planet, you have to be serious about something, but it’s better to be serious about a limited number of things.”
when it comes to emotions, feelings, moods, all those things, I can never figure out where mine end and other people’s begin.”
I get this feeling like I’m quoting somebody else’s work.” “Quoting?” “Yeah, like the feelings aren’t mine.”
Whenever my emotions or whatever kick in, my world goes blank—like something’s taken over me. Then I start doubting everything, like, what if my whole life was just a quote from something else, only I never realized it? That’s where my brain goes.”
“When it comes to love, the only weapon that we’ve got is our emotions, right? So what can you do when your foundation’s all messed up?
The following day, once I had finished work and spent a little time drinking and doing nothing, I climbed into bed only to realize that I had no way to occupy myself, which gave rise to an unspeakable loneliness, although I had no idea what it was that made me feel so lonely.
“In the end, it’s going to have to get absorbed.” “So no light lasts forever?” “Right.” “It all disappears?”
That slowly winding spiral stairway of light ascended freely through the dark, and though I was unsure where it was taking me, or what I would find when I arrived, as long as the music was playing, I knew that there was nothing to fear, that I could go anywhere at all.
“I guess it goes without saying, but now that we have a couple of kids, I’ve become a total mom, and my husband’s a total dad. And that’s all we are. Know what I mean? It’s enough and all, but it’s literally who we are. I’m scared to think what it’ll be like when the kids are grown, when my daughter leaves the house, what’s going to be left of us?
“And the longer this goes on, the more it feels like it isn’t even my own life.
“I don’t know what it is. It’s like you’re not even there anymore, like your life just vanishes.
I’d finally realized how alone I truly was. Despite the crowds of people, and all the different places, and a limitless supply of sounds and colors packed together, there was nothing here that I could reach out and touch. Nothing that would call my name.
When supplies ran out, I started stepping out to the convenience store to grab some snacks, the sort of junk food where it didn’t matter if you ate it or not. Even so, I continued to put this food that didn’t matter into my body that didn’t matter, which made everything seem to matter even less.
It occurred to me that maybe I was where I was today because I hadn’t chosen anything.
I was so scared of being hurt that I’d done nothing. I was so scared of failing, of being hurt, that I chose nothing. I did nothing.
