It will be 10 or 100 years before we see Sunfaded again

Sunfaded / Hiro Shinozawa

The music video for Sunfaded is, to me, the ultimate creation. The moment I saw it upon its release, I felt as if every single one of my cells had been negated. Why did I feel that way? Because no matter what I do, I cannot win. Of course, everyone involved is a top-tier professional, so there is no way to create anything that surpasses their work.
I personally possess no skills in art, music, songwriting, editing, nor do I have a studio or knowledge of the machinery. There is no way a person who is absolutely zero can win against people who are one or more, and yet, the act of being intimidated by people who are 100 or 1000 times higher in the sky is a waste of time in itself. I should remind myself from the start that I cannot win, and that it is presumptuous to even try. It is similar to when you try to start a competition, only to become conscious of those people and end up stopping in your tracks. But I think that is unavoidable. Because we are the same human beings. As long as we are human, everyone is on the same playing field. That is why I end up being conscious of them.
Regardless of that, the music video. Everything pierces through me. There is no need to talk about the quality here, but the level of perfection is so high it makes me want to vomit. It is too wonderful.
So what happens then? As I mentioned before. It would be fine if I didn't exist. I don't need to be here. Because I cannot win. Because I cannot create. The constraints I unconsciously impose upon myself—that might be an existential sickness.
The sound of strings that feel like blood soaking into fingers, the rhythm like a dull heartbeat, scooping up and creating sounds from a spring or summer decades ago that I don't even remember, sounds so chillingly cold, and the singing voice that is swallowed by all of that and circulates heat, running through the dim streets, the graffiti-covered walls, and the crowds of people like something mundane, driving through the sky, the blue, and the limbs, and then, transcending its former self to cloak itself in that existence, the terror of it appearing before my eyes.
It is beautiful. It is far too beautiful.
It is the summer of 2025, and the meaning of my existence has been blown away. I will remember that.
My gratitude to everything in this project.