Mika

I think I’m starting to understand the process of grieving. People become deeply saddened about something, cry or let it all out somehow, and then understand it’s time to move on. Even though we might carry that weight or scar forever, we can attempt to live on with some sort of normalcy from that point forward. Maybe that’s what I had to do with music. I will give it my all tonight, and then, I can move on. I looked at my old uniform and my guitar, and instead of being saddened by them, I grew determined to give it my best, one last time. I changed and left our apartment with every bit of courage I could gather. As I left, I spotted my mother smiling, unaware of what I was doing.

I started heading to the park but then decided, No, that won’t be enough. For my final song, I needed something different. I headed to the train station instead. I could pick a more central station, full of people. Or I could head out, far away from the city, with no one around so I could loudly sing into the night. I stood on the platform looking towards both directions, and I decided to head out, farther away from the city lights, noise and people; a place closer to where I grew up. I rode several stations out, building my resolve every time the train came to a stop, dropping commuters on their way back home.

I received a few strange glances. The contrast created by my hair color and wrinkled uniform struck most of the train riders as unusual, but as usual, they ignored me for the most part. I rode several stations out of the city. Out there, I could clearly see the stars again, and we were far away from the noise of Tokyo. Fully determined, I left the train and stood on the train platform, taking my guitar out of its case.

The night sky had completely taken over, and the station was lonely except for a couple of riders who barely lingered on the platform as they hurried along. The station was partially lit by the stars and moon, with barely anyone in sight. A perfect stage for me.

I pulled up my latest song on my phone to refresh my memory of the chords and the lyrics. Of course I remembered the song in its entirety, I just wanted to make sure to check one last time. It was a song about a girl from the countryside trying to survive in the city, yearning for company and warm hearts, but unable to handle them. I guess I couldn’t escape writing about myself. How cliché, I thought to myself, and yet, it might be my best song. I might simply never write something better. That thought was a heavy one, but also one that encouraged me to give it my all.

I strapped on my guitar and hummed a few notes to myself to warm up. And then, as if being transported into another world, I sang to nothing but the stars, going all out. 

I was just a lonely singer

trying to play my songs...

I yearned for the city,

hoping for some love.

I wasn’t used to singing so loudly and powerfully, so I tripped and stumbled on some notes at first, improving as the song went by. It was an emotional ballad meant to be a soothing song, even if the lyrics were sometimes sad. At that point my mind and senses had drifted away from my reality completely, and I became one with the starry night.

I finished my song uneventfully and I opened my eyes again to slowly drift back into the real world. I was overcome by the feelings of my song, and the events of that day. It was hard to keep my heart from overflowing. I felt like at any moment I was going to burst, and I couldn’t hide it. It was simply too much, I had to let it all out. As my tears ran down my face and my eyes dried up, my somewhat blurry vision gradually went back to that remote train station where I had performed my song.

The station was still mostly empty, except for a train station worker, and a mother with her daughter that had just gotten off the train. I never noticed when they got there, but the girl seemed excited.

“Look mom, an idol!” said the girl to her mom, who seemed to want to leave quickly. The girl was clapping.

I couldn’t help but smile at her actions, even though I was still softly crying.

“Can I have your autograph?” The girl shouted as she walked further away. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh a little, as her mom awkwardly pushed her away from me while making an apologizing gesture.

I was overcome with a mixture of tears and smiles. That girl had told me one of the most flattering things I had ever heard about myself. Of course I looked like that to her. Idols tend to sing and wear school uniforms sometimes. I was no longer crying from sadness. I was crying from happiness. Such a small interaction fed me so much strength. However, the reality of where I was, and what I had just done, was slowly starting to take a hold of me.

The station worker, who had witnessed the whole scene, calmly walked up to me.

“Uh, young miss, there’s no other trains headed to Tokyo tonight and the station is closing. Will you be alright?”

Reality quickly dawned upon me as I felt incredibly stupid for pulling off that whole stunt. My mom must've been worried sick too. I felt a lot of regret for my actions, but at the same time, I knew I had to send off my music somehow. There was no other way, it was unavoidable really. But none of my feelings of determination did anything to stave off my visible embarrassment.

The train station worker sighed and offered me a lift back to the nearest station that could take me back home.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, you know?” He started talking as he drove me to the closest active train station.

“I’m sorry, really.” I kept apologizing after everything he said, trying to be grateful for his actions.

“I just wish you kids and musicians stopped picking our terminal for your outbursts.”

“Musicians too?!” I felt surprised, but also somewhat relieved that I wasn’t the only one.

“Regardless, you’re not half bad, I could feel what you were singing about.” He paused, thinking about the right words to say, “I think many kids around here would have their hearts soothed by your song.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah, but,” he continued, “you know that’s not enough to make it in music nowadays.”

“Right, right. I’m sorry.” I kept apologizing.

“Ah don’t worry about it, what are you apologizing for? The ride? We help each other out here.” The man smiled despite me imposing this situation on him. The hum of the car's engine pressed us along on our way.

I apologized once again when we got to the station, and when I was getting ready to get off the car, the old man still had some final words for me.

“Don’t be afraid to dream big, young miss,” he said, seemingly reflecting on his own past. “One day you’ll be old like me, and you’ll wake up and be unable to dream.” He paused, as I stood there frozen by his words. “You must try everything you can before you give up.”

“Thank you,” I replied humbly, being grateful for his kind words and actions.

Before I knew it he had left me at the station and I had taken the train home and walked back to our apartment. The long and painful way out of the city seemed completely reversed when I was making my way back to Tokyo. The ride back went by in an instant as I relived my experience at that station's platform. I just couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. There was beauty, sadness, joy. There was music that could maybe help others, music that could maybe make people smile. That’s why I started doing this, and that’s why I should keep doing it.

That girl at the train station helped me in ways she couldn't imagine. I was sure I was going to treasure her kind words for the rest of my life. I decided I wasn’t going to stop. I don’t need to grieve for something that I can keep living for. I can’t give up so easily.

I will make sure. I thought to myself. I will make sure nobody feels forced to say bad things about my music again.

I put away my guitar with far more determination than I had ever felt.

I will keep practicing. And I will make sure.