🕯️ Eight years from now, at 60, I want to still be standing with pride.

Two months until I turn 52, in the middle of the night.

Outside the window, the wind whistled once.
Listening to that sound, I suddenly wonder.
What kind of face will I have eight years from now?

There are days when the city lights feel so far away.
After closing my work emails,
in the moment I quietly exhale,
I wonder if I will just be swept away by time.
That anxiety sinks to the bottom of my heart.

A changing world, and hands that do not change.

Someone says that AI will take our jobs.
But what I want to protect is
the "humanity within the machine."

Back when I used to fix fax machines.
Paper would jam, the ink would smudge,
yet I could still hear the voice on the other end.
The smell of the workplace remained, mixed with the oil and sweat on my hands.

Now, it is all through a screen.
Touching and meeting have become rare.
Even so, I do not want to change these hands that work for the sake of "people."

Pride is not a job title, but a stance.
I still want to be a person who can put heart into their work.

Repairing the future.

I brew coffee and open the window.
The cold wind hits my cheeks.
In that moment, I smelled the future.

Where will I be at 60?
I might be tired.
But I want to be standing.
I still want to be connected to something.

To stand is not to fight.
It is not about holding your ground, either.
It is about continuing to choose your place with your own will.

To polish that will,
I am setting my "now" in order.
I tidy my desk and polish an old pen.
So that tomorrow, too, I can move something with these hands.

Stacking up the "now." The future is born there.

Night.
After closing the manuscript,
I stared at the lukewarm coffee left in my cup.

I believe that these lines,
one by one, will become the pillars that support me eight years from now.

To believe in the future is
to live today with care.
It is to place your pride not in "someday," but in "now."

By doing so,
so that the future me can smile,
I sit at my desk again today.

At 60, I want to still be standing with pride.
That is my prayer right now.

Afterword

Life is something that is gradually lost, and
yet I believe it is a journey to find a 'reason to stand'.
And,
as long as I can put that reason into words, I am still alive.
Those of my generation who empathize with me are surely continuing their journey, aiming for the same future.

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EX-FAX-CE | NOTE Writer
“Lost Generation Perspective - Living with emotion, rising through words”
“Unwavering and straightforward”
“Words are not a reboot, but proof of continuity”
▶ What is EX-FAX-CE▶ Lost Generation Derailment Studies　▶ Momentary Eternity　▶ Critical Point of Laughter
X：@zdocomo ／ note：/exfaxce
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