Me, on that day and that day,
This is a tweet I wrote on 2018/11/16.
I kept talking out loud to myself, as if I were having someone listen to all the unresolved frustrations of my childhood.
In my apartment where I lived alone, the night where only my voice could be heard was strange, but for some reason, I couldn't stop, and I remember as if it were yesterday how I kept putting it into words while tears streamed down my face. And I also remember very well that, strangely enough, I had the sensation that the dim darkness nesting in my heart was easing.
Later, I learned that this was an act of healing my "inner child." Because there was such a night where I hugged the child inside me, I believe I was able to let go of my past self.
Today, there was a CforC reflection, and I had the opportunity to look at the interactions between children and myself. When I tried to look back at the thoughts at the bottom of my heart, the record of this day came to mind. Since it was a night that served as a trigger to move one step forward, I decided to leave it in a note. The words are exactly as they were.
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I don't know why it turned out this way, but I went on a journey to dig up the painful and hurtful past inside me. Alone, I put into words and spoke out loud what kind of things were painful and how they were painful at that time. The color of the frustration was too deep to keep hidden inside my teenage body.
It started in elementary school. I lost out because of my seriousness. At the time, the popular kids were the ones who were boisterous and could barge into people's hearts. I thought that getting hurt and crying meant I was weak. Even when promises were broken, I felt relieved when they apologized; I didn't know about forgiving or not forgiving. Even though I was so sad.
I left that place and decided to create a new self. In a place where no one knew the old me, I created the self I wanted to be, and I became it. But I wasn't dexterous enough to balance the real me and the "newly made me." I would overdo it, or I wouldn't be able to do it at all. Even when it became painful, I couldn't bend, and I couldn't hate things that I should have been allowed to hate.
In my prime high school years, I kept myself together with the guideline of "this is what I would do if I were one step more mature." All instructions within club activities were kept at the tone of a "good morning." Just saying it because it should be said. Nothing less, nothing more. Even so, I was told, "I hated you." What could I have done to be liked?
I have done the things I liked; no matter what those around me said, and even if I didn't have confidence in myself, if I thought I wanted to do it, I did it. That much, at least, I did. I learned that likes and dislikes can coexist, that my justice and someone else's justice do not equal each other, and that the fruits of effort are far in the future. My stomach had felt uncomfortable for a long time.
Perhaps it is a life that is neither easy nor painful compared to others. A life with average hardships and the blessings typical of a Japanese person. But I have walked through it all by tracing it myself. The days when I was that lonely will not come again. But it is a bittersweet memory that I can never forget for the rest of my life. I cannot become a good person, but I think I was a child who was honest with others.
I have no intention of justifying myself. I did many stupid things out of shallowness. The bitterness is my own fault. But surely, I have properly gained the pain I needed to know. The best at that point in time is not a person's best for their whole life. The pain of that time properly forged the current me who is beyond that.
I really don't know why I'm writing this. But I thought that if I were to let it out, it was now. I can be an ally to the me of that time who despaired at the words "there is no night that doesn't end." And I can be an ally to someone else, too. Because I want to be that kind of person, I remember myself.
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