A Fan Letter to Someone Who Loves How to Capture Words and the World

I don't know what the Seikyo Shimbun is, but I like the catchphrase from its commercial: 'Living with words.'

Every time I try to delete an unused old Twitter account, I remember a few people I'm only connected to there, so I just log out instead.
To be precise, I log in, search for the account I'm looking for, like their tweets, and then log out. This happens about once every three months.

I like people who enjoy being themselves, and people whose humor about trying to enjoy being themselves shows in their words. I also like people who want to capture their small joys and sorrows.

I find myself empathizing on my own, thinking, 'I've never put it into words, but I have that feeling too,' or secretly feeling grateful, thinking, 'I'm so happy that someone who sees the world this way is living in the same time as me.'

He is one of those people.

Actually, I can't remember his face or his real name, and I don't even know where he lives now.
Even so, I really like his words and his way of seeing the world.

Is it a sense of familiarity with the lingering melancholy? Or the thrill of him cursing the world with precise words?
I don't know, I can't put it into words. It's hard to break down and list his characteristics, but I like him surprisingly much.
I haven't really told him that, but I follow his words regularly.
(Having said that, there are many articles on his note I haven't read, so I think I'll enjoy reading them bit by bit while waiting at the hospital.)

I suppose I like his way of viewing the world. When I like someone's way of viewing the world, I can trust them even if I don't know them well. I can feel a connection even with just one person.

I infer that he is the kind of person who can observe kindness, sorrow, and loss from a distance and turn them into writing. I can feel that kind of distance from life—like he is cherishing the impermanence of all things because it can't be helped—and for some reason, it makes me feel relieved when I read it. It also makes my heart flutter. There is a sense of security and excitement in someone who treats words with care, knowing they won't treat people carelessly.

…So, I call that carefulness and love of not treating people carelessly 'excitement'.

By the way, I can't really write calm? quiet sentences. My writing, which I scribble down as my thoughts overflow, often goes off on tangents or gets crossed wires, and because I don't even edit it, I'm always thinking while I write that it's like a snake-like path of thoughts. I always try to wrap it up nicely, but my thoughts often change by the next day, so I don't have confidence that I write in a way that's easy to read. (That's also why I periodically turn them into pictures or works. I need to rely on stories and visual expression.)

I think his words are beautiful, with nothing lacking and nothing in excess.

I, who often ask people, 'What do you mean by that?', seem to believe that using words generously to express things correctly is a form of sincerity. It's precisely because I am drowning in words that I admire him.

I am a fan of his gaze, which observes every emotion that wells up without denying it, and quietly spreads ripples on the water's surface as his own words. I will continue to look forward to your words.

To the person himself
I wrote this because I just wanted to put into words that I like you, so you don't need to react. That's all, this was a public fan letter.