I don't know where I am. I don't know why I got off. A wind of confusion swifts on my face as I get off the train car. Kasukabe. The train is supposed to take arrives, but I let it go. But I let that sink in. This sink in. It feels as though I have to learn to breathe.
I don't know where I am. I don't know why I got off. A wind of confusion swifts on my face as I get off the train car. Kasukabe. The train is supposed to take arrives, but I let it go. But I let that sink in. This sink in. It feels as though I have to ... horror stories
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aoishiori
aoishiori trying to find ways and reasons to stay
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Yasumochi Omahara’s abandoned recorder

I don't know where I am. I don't know why I got off. A wind of confusion swifts on my face as I get off the train car. Kasukabe. The train is supposed to take arrives, but I let it go. But I let that sink in. This sink in. It feels as though I have to learn to breathe.

Ah, The vending machine. 120 yen in my pocket and I get coffee.

Faces, blurry faces, old faces, new faces, young faces, faces. All of them happy faces. A stupid happiness surrounds me. Plastic bags and bicycles near the crossing as I go on. Time passes.

Time passes and I struggle to remember. Another train arrives, some other train leaves.

An old man walks with a slight limp as he carries a bag filled with apples. A 23 year old woman walks with him, smiling as she looks at me. Huh. I must know her.

A family passes me by. A mom a dad and a three year old boy. The boy walks with his hands in theirs, while the dad uses the other for a cigarette, Mrs. Kobe uses hers for her coin course. I.... I know them too. Time passes and I stay.

A group of pre teens comes by. With shy girls and annoying boys, each tries to love but forgets. Each tries to speak but fails and masks them. Perhaps a theme for all teenagers.

A second hot coffee and more faces. A train comes by, some other train leaves. And I stay. Time passes.

Picnics commence. People with layover trains to Tokyo jobs stay for seconds. Clawing birds and wandering cats. An idyllic sub urban life where everyone is different, but similar enough. Where everyone around knows everyone enough. ”Enough”. Enough is the word I'm leaving behind.

I know now. I know what happened here. I knew what flew in the same of monotony. What made the similar in me almost hidden by what I became. You won't be understood once you let go into the abyss. You won't come back to their normalcy. And the more you keep at it, the more you'll slip away. And even when you stand still, it passes. But time passes and I stay.

120 yen.

My third coffee since I cried. Cried when I saw the trees. Cried as I saw the people who so truly understood each other. Cried as I left somewhere I once some minutes stayed. Cried for the first time in 2 years, in public no less. But I cannot get this life. I don't get to be understood here. The blur around me holds grip again.

Another train arrives, some other leaves and I stay. Stay where I have always stayed. Do what I have always done. And time passes by and everyone moves by. And I go into the train this time. And as I open the gate, I forget everything again.

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