On Your Birthday, Two Sets of Thanks—Reflecting on My Best Friend and the Year I Was Saved by the Stage

※This text is a record of my personal experiences and feelings. It mixes stories about Shogo Suzuki with quite personal stories of my own. It is a piece written strictly from the perspective of 'how I felt.' I would be happy if you could read it with a comfortable sense of distance. Furthermore, the descriptions regarding Shogo-kun are limited to information that has been made public on social media and other platforms.
It has been almost a year since the event I attended last year.
My beloved favorite, Shogo Suzuki, and my best friend have birthdays only three days apart.
Therefore, whenever this time of year comes around to celebrate my favorite, I always remember my best friend as well.
Back then, I was constantly fighting an unfathomable fear that I might lose my best friend.
The one who became my emotional hotline was undoubtedly Shogo-kun.
The shadow of despair that I couldn't confide in those close to me.
I felt deeply that my parents, old friends, and colleagues were all watching over me and supporting me in their own ways.
That is precisely why there were emotions I couldn't let out back then.
The only place that would accept those feelings was his fan club, 'Familia,' and the theatrical works he created.
The fact that he was an overwhelming stranger.




And the trust that, even as a fan, he would treat me as an equal human being.
That was something clearly conveyed through his daily work and the words spoken during his live streams.
It didn't become a hotline all of a sudden.
The trigger was the habit I naturally developed of sending feedback every time I watched his work.
Influenced by his habit of frankly revealing his own sensibilities and thoughts during every stream, I, too, began to feel the urge to put my own feelings into words.

When I watch a play, what exactly is it that shakes my heart?
That most honestly reflects who I am at that moment.
What am I afraid of?
What do I desire?

What am I lost about?
It shows me these things like a mirror.
I am forced to face the unidentifiable things at the bottom of my heart that I had been turning away from.
That is the true thrill of theater that he taught me, and the reason why I love theater.
What he has continued to convey through theater:
'No matter how painful it is, no matter how deep in despair you are, as long as there is even a tiny bit of hope, people can live on. People can connect. And even if it looks like you are covered in mud, this world is beautiful.'
He conveyed things like that through countless stages.

That is exactly why I was able to open up about my best friend through the works he was involved in.
For me, there was a sense of distance where I could believe I wouldn't be hurt.
Family is a troublesome thing; because they are too close, they mercilessly stab a knife even into what was a glimmer of hope at the time.

'Going to Tokyo for a play during Obon? You're not thinking about your best friend at all.'
It was a logical argument.
But there is nothing more painful than having logic used as a weapon.
I remember feeling like I had been stabbed repeatedly by the very person I should have been able to confide in most.
Back then, I was crying non-stop except when I was at work.
I became even more unable to sleep.
At times like that, it was his stage works that saved me.


Every night, I played the discs repeatedly.
I recorded them on my smartphone's voice recorder and listened to the lines over and over during my commute.
'When you are in the middle of the present, things that were so painful, frustrating, and infuriating that you didn't know what to do, somehow feel warm, like proof that you were alive.'
It was truly my amulet back then.
It became a place where it was okay to cry, a place where I could feel safe.

He and I lost our precious people around the same time.
I lost my best friend, and he lost his father.
Perhaps that is why I selfishly felt that we were comrades, both suffering from loss and fighting against ourselves.
The fear of standing on stage and the fear of teaching in front of students.

In front of others, I had to hide my weak self and act it out.
For me, who was experiencing panic attacks every day, seeing him living on stage was an encouragement that was more valuable than anything else.
The event that took place exactly one year ago.
I was finally able to convey my gratitude directly.

'I was really saved so much by my best friend's situation. Thank you.'
I still remember the 'Ah!' expression of realization he had at that moment.
Even though I had been stiff until then, I felt like the tension left me all at once.

'Ah... he remembers.'
I felt that vaguely.
'I'll do what I can. Thank you, too.'
What warm words those were.

I wondered if I had been a bit heavy... but I'm sure if it were him, he would accept it lightly and let it flow.
About a year since that time.
My best friend's birthday, who will not have a second year.

Back then, I couldn't even meet people, and I was having panic attacks on the train every day.
Surely, the day will never come when the panic attacks are completely cured.
It is a relationship I will live with for the rest of my life.
Even so, I know that I can stand up again.

To him, who introduced me to many works and words that gave me that trigger,
I want to send many thanks, both for the past and for the future.
'Happy birthday.'