Anti-cipation

It's not supposed to be sad, is it?

I asked a friend this question last night, and he confidently answered, "No, it isn't. You should be happy." Thing is, I am, I am. Those very same words could've come right off my mouth. It was the right answer. Hell, it was my answer.

But suddenly, in the middle of everything last night, I lost my purpose again. Or I lost my sense of purpose. Again.

You see in (one, two, three...) four days, I leave for Japan, to study. I have known it for a year, maybe more. Perhaps in my gut I'd always felt I was moving in that direction, heading there. And I spent the better part of that year wringing my fingers, just wishing the months would fly by, and cursing the old anticipation-is-better bullshit. And now, now that it's just days away, I find myself wringing my hands once again. And for different reasons.

You see, even if the knowledge of going was just below the surface this whole time, and (that dreaded word) anticipation like an echo of the heartbeat, it was easy to ignore and forget about it. Or forget about the consequences of it. Like the loneliness (Hey, it'd be just like one big party!). The totally different culture (It's one hell of an adventure, drey!). The frightening thought of having nobody to turn to who's family (Oh, I soooo envy you! Good luck!). The suffocating idea of leaving every thing you know and love behind (When you leave and I don't cry, would that hurt you?).

It's funny really. I feel like I am a poster child for the developmental stages, but instead of going through phases, I go through emotions. And it seems inevitable, and impossible to skip one. Like a barnhouse roof swept by a twister, I have no choice but to swirl and whirl and scramble through each and every emotion this ride takes me. Happiness. Appreciation. Anticipation. Boredom. Depression. Regret. Fatigue. Relief. Appreciation. Excitement. Happiness. Fatigue. Loneliness. Anger. Pain. Grief... Fatigue.

Yes, now I am simply tired. I just want it over with. I want that leaving/ grieving/ planning/ packing/ considering/ rejecting/ fake-friends-suddenly-all-over-you stage over and done with. I want to be in Japan, where nobody knows who I am, what I believe in, what food I like, what baseball team I root for, what I think of Sanada Hiroyuki or Ichiro. Where I don't owe anybody any explanations about the answers or non-answers to all these questions, and the ones I can't verbalize but resonate in side my head.

Now, I'd like to apologize. I lied. I find the reasons I'm wringing my fingers now is the same as they've always been: I want time to fly. I want time to fly me to my departure date. Fly me to Japan and to my studies and to my life there. Fly me to my graduation day, or even to life after that, through it all, whereever it may be. Fly me to that time when everything is over, and I am on my deathbed, where it all would flash before my eyes all over again... Because I find that anticipation often causes disappointment and grief and pain. And I feel I don't have the strength to go through all that twisted emotional spinner anymore.

So yeah, tell me the plot of that movie I haven't seen. Sure, reveal the twist in the end of that book. Okay, order for me in my favorite restaurant, and while you're at it, pick any CD and play it--I don't care what it is. Go ahead, read my palm, my tea leaves, the dregs in my coffee cup. Tell me all and spare me the first-hand experience. Do it quickly, I might change my mind soon, and all will be lost again.

It's not supposed to be sad, is it?

sometimes the mind is just in so much turmoil that ideas and questions just refuse to be put together and coagulate into words and phrases. so we brush aside, ignore, escape, until we finally forget. then you come across something, or read something, then wham! the questions come slamming back and there's no breakwater to protect you.