"Pace Log" - A record to stay myself, even when in love

Episode 3 | Silence was not a hole, but a blanket

The day before Saturday, I added one more page to my Pace Log.

Things to do before a date (15 minutes) - Clear only the desk - Decide on tomorrow's outfit - Brew tea (for myself)

Things to do after a date (10 minutes) - Shower - Write just one line in the Pace Log - Put the smartphone on the charger (don't fall asleep holding it)

Instructions for myself. I was the person who was hardest to handle in the whole world.

I walked with Yuma along the riverside path. It was after the cherry blossom season, and the leaves were shining. Yuma tried to throw a stone into the river, but he stopped and looked at me.

"Koharu-san, aren't you tired?"

I was surprised. I thought I had been hiding it.

"...Just a little. When I'm happy, I get tired. It's strange, isn't it?"

"It's not strange. Being happy involves a lot of information, after all."

The way he said that was funny, and I laughed. Yuma laughed too.

"Then, let's rest on a bench. The kind where we don't have to talk."

When we sat on the bench, the wind blew through. Silence came. But that silence wasn't a hole; it was like a blanket.

After a while, Yuma said, "I once had someone I was dating tell me, 'I don't know what you're thinking.'"

"...That's tough."

"It was tough. That's why I was grateful that you told me about your pace. Because it becomes something I can understand."

Something I can understand.

Deep inside my chest, it became warm.

"I tend to make assumptions. I jump to conclusions on my own, get tired on my own, and feel like I'm going to disappear on my own."

"Yeah."

So... to make sure I don't disappear, is it okay if I make some rules?

Of course.

I took my Pace Book out of my bag. I felt a little embarrassed, but I opened it. Yuma didn't laugh. He nodded seriously, as if I were showing him a map.

This is good. ...I want one too.

Huh?

A Pace Book. Maybe I should make one for myself. Like, 'Go for a walk if you overthink things.'

I burst out laughing. And then, the alarm in my chest turned its volume down just a little bit.

I went home and did my 'things to do after a date.' I took a shower, dried my hair, and wrote one line in my Pace Book.

Today, the silence wasn't scary.

Then I put my phone on the charger and crawled into bed. My room isn't perfectly clean. But the socks in their bags that were scattered on the floor are properly back in the drawer. Just that alone made the world look a little more orderly.

The next Sunday, I didn't meet anyone and protected the 'flat surfaces' of my room. I cleared off my desk and the floor, did the laundry, and bought some groceries. When my life returns, my heart returns too. When my heart returns, 'liking' someone doesn't feel scary anymore.

At night, I got a message from Yuma. I replied for only 20 minutes.

The text on the screen looked like a tiny light.

Maybe love isn't something that ruins your life, but something you can place within it. Not a giant wave, but something like the rhythm of your breathing.

I close my eyes and think of the ceramic cat figurine. Me, finding things I like with wide, round eyes. That roundness is precarious, but it's adorable. So, I just need to learn how to protect it.

When you fall in love, don't embrace the other person's pace first—embrace your own. If you feel like you're falling apart, create a place to return to.

The next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. I practiced sitting next to Yuma without letting go of my own life.

Slowly. But surely, as myself.

To you who felt like you 'understood' this story: Protecting your own pace is not being selfish. I think it is the quietest effort you can make to keep on loving.