Tearful Return to Osaka—My Father, the Train, and the Changed Me. | Self-Introduction Series ⑨ [From the World to the Bed]

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Hello, this is Takatsuda.
This time, I wrote about my tearful return to Osaka—the day I reunited with my father. Here it is.

Once the leave of absence procedures were finished, I realized I was already on a plane bound for Kansai International Airport.
I couldn't decide anything for myself anymore.
Light and sound were painful, so I equipped myself with sunglasses and noise-canceling headphones.
I soothed my palpitations while playing the mindfulness audio I had downloaded on YouTube.
I somehow endured it. That was all I did.

The moment we landed, I whispered to myself, 'Oh, no, no, no...'
The sudden arrival of“that thing”cannot be stopped by logic.
The tears, the sense of despair—it is “that thing” that only those who have suffered from depression can understand.

I picked up my luggage and headed to the arrival lobby.
My father was there.
The moment I saw him,tears overflowed as if a dam had broken.
I didn't even know why I was crying.

My father said nothing. He just stood next to me.
I think it had been since I was in elementary school that I had cried like this in front of my father.
I'm sure my father was bewildered, too.
But he stayed there without asking anything or blaming me.
I was grateful for that silence.

We left the airport by car and headed for my parents' home.
The Nanko industrial zone—chimneys puffing smoke, towers flashing red.
A landscape that looked just like “Midgar” spread out before the car window.

※Midgar = A massive industrial city appearing in “Final Fantasy VII.”
A city of smoke and neon where the high-rise city of the wealthy and the slums spreading in its shadow are divided.

It felt less like “I'm home” and more like “I've come to another planet.”

I arrived at my parents' house and collapsed straight onto the bed.
I didn't say anything; I just slept.

The next morning, when I opened the curtains, a Hankyu train was running outside the window.
That rhythm, that sound, that speed. A landscape I should have been watching forever.
But at that moment, I cried again.

I was supposed to have “come home.”
But it didn't feel like my place anymore.
Even though the train was running just as it always had, it felt like I was the only one left behind.
I'm still afraid of sounds and crowds, so I can't ride the train yet.
But that morning, too, only the train was as it always was.

Even though the scenery hadn't changed at all, I was the only one who had changed.
That was just plain sad.

But it's not over yet.
Next time, a story about “another world” I encountered while in bed.