There are days when you are saved by 'meaningless time'

There are nights when I wonder if it is okay to just go on like this.

Even though I work properly, respond properly, and prepare for tomorrow properly, there are days when, for some reason, my heart just cannot keep up.

On such nights, I often open a book.

It might be closer to escaping than to reading.

But strangely enough, while a book is a 'place to escape to,' it is also, in a way, a 'place to return to.'

As I turn the pages, the pace of my breathing returns to normal, just a little bit.

Books are often thought of as things you read because they are useful.

Like gaining knowledge, broadening your perspective, or changing your life.

Of course, those things are probably true too.

But when you are truly exhausted, you are not looking for anything so grand.

I think you just want the 'feeling that you are not alone.'

Just finding a loneliness similar to your own in someone else's writing is often enough for the day.

There was a time when I was convinced that I 'had to spend my days off meaningfully.'

Going to a cafe in the morning, studying, exercising, reading, and if possible, going to an art museum too.

Looking at photos of such days off made me feel like I was living my life properly, and it gave me peace of mind.

But one day, when I was truly exhausted, I did nothing at all.

I woke up in the afternoon, ate a rice ball from a convenience store, stared blankly out the window, and went for a short walk in the evening.

That was all.

Yet, for some reason, I cannot forget that day.

I remember walking along the river and thinking, 'Was the wind always this cool?'

When people are cornered, they start looking for 'meaning'.

Is there any meaning in this effort?

Is this job right for me?

Where are these days heading?

Of course, it is important to think about those things.

But if you keep staring only at meaning, your heart will dry up.

You don't think flowers are 'unproductive,' yet you immediately seek meaning in your own rest.

The same goes for taking a walk.

A walk has almost no meaning.

There is no destination, no result, and no one to praise you for it.

However, while walking, your thoughts begin to unravel just a little.

A dog waiting at a traffic light, a cardboard box in front of a greengrocer, a plant on the balcony of a house whose name you don't even know.

For some reason, those 'insignificant things' bring people back to reality.

The more painful your heart is, the more you tend to search for grand answers.

But in reality, perhaps only small things can save a person.

Like a warm drink.

Like a book you're in the middle of reading.

Like a convenience store at night.

Like a freshly washed towel.

Like a meaningless conversation.

I believe it is through the accumulation of such things that people can just barely make it to tomorrow.

In an essay I read a long time ago, there was a sentence that said, 'Life is longer than you think.'

When I was young, that scared me a little.

I used to think, 'Does it really go on for this long?'

But lately, I feel a little differently.

If life is long, perhaps there is no need to rush.

Even if I couldn't do anything today, there is always tomorrow.

I can think that I am still in the middle of the journey.

Just thinking that way makes breathing a little easier.

We are too good at blaming ourselves.

We feel anxious just by resting, and feel left behind just by standing still.

However, I think what people who are truly tired need is not 'ways to try harder,' but 'permission to rest with peace of mind.'

Time that produces nothing.

Reading that serves no purpose.

A walk that has no meaning.

Such things may look like detours, but they might actually be the very act of repairing the heart.

When night falls, the world becomes a little quieter.

The atmosphere of being rushed for a reply is not as strong as it is during the day.

At such times, when I open a book, I sometimes think:

That humans are creatures who, even if they cannot fully understand each other, can leave behind a 'record of having tried to understand.'

That is why writing has body heat.

A night when someone couldn't sleep.

An evening when one felt helplessly lonely.

A morning when one thought they couldn't try anymore.

Words written through such times strangely reach us.

If you are feeling a little tired right now, it is okay not to force yourself to be positive today.

You don't need grand answers or resolutions to change your life.

Just drinking some tea, opening a window a little, and reading a few pages of a book is enough.

People can actually survive again with just that much.

And perhaps, I think there are things in life that save us precisely because they are meaningless, just as much as there are things that are important because they have meaning.