Dead-End Memories: Stories

I’d always believed I didn’t take up a lot of space in this world—that it hardly mattered whether I was here or not. When a person left, the people around them got used to their absence. That was true enough. But when I pictured the world without me, and the people I loved living on in it, I couldn’t help but feel like crying.

It struck me that family, work, friendships, engagements - all of these were like spiderwebs placed to protect people from the more distressing colors that lurked within themselves. The more safety nets you had under you, the less far you had to fall, and if you were lucky you might live your entire life without even noticing what was below.

La sensación de no ver el final del túnel todavía no se había disipado. En esos días, yo tenía que contentarme con el presente, porque temía que, si apartaba la mirada de él, la pena me embargaría y, sin embargo, precisamente eso contribuía a ese extraño estado de felicidad

The words I read in books seemed to strike me more deeply, and with my senses sharpened by grief, I noticed the glittering transition of the seasons as clearly as if I held the grief in the palm of my hand. It had been a long while since I'd experienced a fall so clear and crisp.

La felicidad llega sin llamar a la puerta, al margen de las situaciones y circunstancias que la rodean a una, con una independencia casi cruel. No importa en qué situación te halles o con quién estés.

En este mundo cada uno tiene su particular abismo. Mis desgracias o las tuyas son nimias, en el mundo hay cosas mucho peores, cosas que, si nos ocurrieran a nosotros, nos destrozarían y nos matarían al instante. Porque nosotros gozamos de una situación bastante feliz y aventajada. Y no hay que avergonzarse de ello

Time simply floated open and started to expand. Time held the two of us in light, inside a space so vast it might have reached the heavens, and turned eternal.

There was a candor about him I noticed in people whose parents had given them something unconditional and absolute growing up.

This feels good, I thought. I'm just happy he's here. I don't need him to be mine. I wanted to appreciate him the way I did giant trees in the park, which gave people shelter and relief but didn't belong to anybody.

This was what it took, I realized, to be something that survived. Not just constancy, or strength. But—like the ever-flowing river—to engulf everything that came your way and move swiftly on as though it had never been.

I realized that I’d never appreciated how peaceful and precious my life had been before.

That must be nice, I thought, to be able to be so carefree with the love you have.

People who slipped past me, even though we might have been able to spend more time if things had been different. My real parents, old lovers, former friends. Maybe my connection with Mr. Yamazoe belonged with them, too. The ways our paths happened to cross in this world meant that things could never have worked out between us. But in some other world, far away, deep, deep down, by some clear waterside, I know we’re together - smiling, feeling kind, and being good to one another.

On the other hand, I was fortunate to have been surrounded by enough small happinesses to keep me fulfilled, in spite of the circumstances.

I was also learning that every single person in the world had been hurt by their family at some point. I wasn’t special at all—some people dealt with it well, and some didn’t, but that was the only difference, and either way, we were all nourished and cherished by our families, and at the same time limited and defined by them—that was what it meant to be human, I understood.

I’d broken up with someone I’d met at my pottery studio. It had been quite a major love affair. He was older and single, and I’d gotten caught up in it to the point that I’d even thought about marrying him. In the end we’d gone our separate ways, but I was still hung up on him.

For the first time, I saw the difference we made by being there for people over the years, in the background of their lives.

This was precisely what made him so nice. He was even considerate to ghosts.

It had been an interlude that had shone so brightly only because I hadn’t expected anything from anyone and hadn’t needed to accomplish anything.

There, I could feel that pursuing your own interests or preoccupations, instead of treating them as somehow shameful, would make life easier and lighter, so I quit being embarrassed about engaging in these seemingly useless thoughts. When I did that, the world suddenly blossomed into pink. The rose-colored world where I lived had space and dimension, and as much air to breathe as I wanted, and multitudes of things that opened and closed with dizzying speed. That space constricted a little when I spent time with other people, but it wasn't a problem, because I knew I could quickly return to that world of my own. That was how I became a writer, and finally found a place to belong.

Happiness descends on you suddenly, regardless of circumstance, and so indifferently that it seems cruel. It doesn't care where you are, or who you're with. You don't see it coming. You can't make it happen. It might arrive with your next breath, or you might never get to experience it no matter how long you wait. Like the movement of waves, or shifts in the weather, the miracle lies in wait for everyone.

I'd catch Makoto gazing at me dreamily, with his big clear eyes and his surprisingly thick brows drawn into a neat line, and I would know that he was looking at the glow of my soul, or whatever it was. Then all of a sudden, I would feel free from all the anxieties that weighed on my mind...by a strong, bright, rose-colored light. It was only much later that I learned the light came from me, and what Makoto had done was to be its witness and protector.

I often wonder whether those that are too pure are destined for fleeting lives, like cats that are beautiful and white as snow, or birds with gossamer feathers.

Tomo-chan didn't have a lot of friends, but she did treasure many things: her coworkers, her parents, her pet parakeet, her pothos plants, romantic movies...the list was endless. Life, for Tomo-chan, was about making sure she was neatly surrounded by all the things that were important to her.

His sheer presence made a room feel warmer, made me feel like I'd been blessed. I understood exactly why people wanted to be near him, like he was kind of talisman...I knew firsthand that after talking to him, I didn't feel lonely at all. My body felt more at ease, my thoughts happier. I felt like life might yet have good things in store for me. And it wasn't a heady, unmoored feeling, but a quiet, rolling wave. This feels good, I thought. I'm just happy he's here. I don't need him to be mine. I wanted to appreciate him the way I did giant trees in the park, which gave people shelter and relief but didn't belong to anybody. Since I'd always assumed he was something to be shared, to me he was akin to cake, or a hot spring, or good music, a steady presence I could rely on to be there when I needed to catch my breath.

noticed how adamantly I resisted changing my mind about something I’d already decided on. And how that stubbornness stopped me from being able to listen to the people around me.

I was pretty impressed that a boy of his age could have such an appropriate and reasonable opinion.

que una persona esté siempre en casa, lleve siempre la misma vida y a primera vista parezca sosegada, no significa que sea una persona simple, encerrada en sí misma y apalancada. Eso indica una mentalidad tremendamente pobre. Sin embargo, la mayoría de la gente lo cree así, cuando en realidad nuestro interior puede ampliarse hasta el infinito. Son muchos los que ni siquiera hacen el esfuerzo de imaginar el tesoro que duerme en el corazón de los demás –dijo Nishiyama.