Chapter 47:

Tokyo Part II: Chapter 42

The Kimochi Warui Diary

It was the last day of the trip. Tonight, we’d be getting on the plane back to California. Bookmark here

Jotaro and I checked out of our hotel and headed over to Noah and Kumiko’s place. Bookmark here

On the train ride over, I saw a Japanese girl who looked just a few years younger than me. She had shoulder-length, wavy black hair and a petite mole just over her lip. Bookmark here

She was definitely my type.Bookmark here

No, she was insanely my type.Bookmark here

I knew so because I felt the intense pang of yearning and dread—yearning for what I desired, but dread because I knew I couldn’t have it. Bookmark here

Wait… What did I mean by “couldn’t have it?” Bookmark here

Why was I always assuming the worst about things and always selling myself short?Bookmark here

How long was I going to live this way? Bookmark here

Had any of the heroes in my anime ever backed down without even trying in the first place?Bookmark here

I forced my body to stand up, even while my mind was fighting against it.Bookmark here

I walked to the other side of the train, each foot feeling like it had training weights strapped to it. Bookmark here

I took a seat next to the girl. Bookmark here

At first, she seemed to ignore me, assuming that I was just moving over or being an odd foreigner. But I wouldn’t let my intentions be buried by such assumptions! Bookmark here

I gently tapped her on the shoulder.Bookmark here

「英語が出来る?」Bookmark here

「ちょっと」 she replied nervously.Bookmark here

“You’re really cute,” I said. “What’s your name?”Bookmark here

Her pale, white face began to redden. She looked away, frightened by my eye contact. But she was powerfully intrigued—she carefully looked back up at me.Bookmark here

“M-my name… My name is Yuki.”Bookmark here

Yuki, huh? Bookmark here

Yeah, I suppose that’s what her name would have been. Bookmark here

I wouldn’t actually know, though. Bookmark here

That whole thing I just wrote up there? It’s all made up. Bookmark here

Well, the girl was real, though—I definitely saw her. And I definitely felt lots of dread over not being able to have her.Bookmark here

But, who the hell cares? I was going to feel that dread every single time I saw a cute girl—I probably wouldn’t stop feeling it even after I turn 80 years old. Bookmark here

So why the hell had I let it drag me down so much during this whole trip? Bookmark here

Why hadn’t I been laughing and smiling in spite of it all?Bookmark here

Bookmark here

Something about Japan plunged me into the depths of myself, basking in the feelings of self-loathing and solitude—an addicting sort of melancholy perpetually fueled by neurosis. At some point during the trip, I had inherited this feeling and carried it with me the entire way.Bookmark here

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