to, Tokyo!!
Nearly two springs ago, I stepped into Tokyo, chasing something intangible—something hidden in time and space. Now, two years have passed, and as I sit down to write, I realize this city didn’t just happen to me—I happened to it. If I step back and look from a distance, though only a week has passed since I left that cozy room, I see myself clearly: relentless, restless, reaching for everything at once.
In these two years, I did so much. Another graduation, night shifts at part-time jobs, drifting through a sea of unfamiliar faces, soaking in knowledge, and pushing forward with an urgency I could barely comprehend. It was an intense, unforgiving stretch of time—one that changed me in ways I am still uncovering. And though I am just a 30-minute ride away, I already feel the absence of Tokyo settling in. I miss the air, the never-ending flow of people, the endless lights, the food, and the way time felt different there.
Tokyo gave me stories—too many to count. The late-night walks through neon-lit streets, when the world felt like it was holding its breath. The ramen shop on the corner where I sat alone at first, then later with friends, laughter filling the air along with the scent of broth. The bookstore in Jimbocho where I spent entire afternoons, losing track of time as I flipped through pages of forgotten poetry. The train rides—sometimes silent, sometimes filled with voices that became familiar. The rainy evenings when I stood at a crossing, watching headlights reflect on wet pavement, feeling like I was inside a movie whose ending I hadn’t yet seen.
In my last week in Tokyo, I finally visited Tokyo Tower. The opportunity had presented itself countless times before, yet I never went. I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted to leave something undone—a reason to return. But when I reached the top, I didn’t just see the city; I saw my childhood. As a child, I had only known it through anime, newsletters, and stamp papers. I never thought I would stand before it—not like this. But here I am, walking forward, carrying every version of myself within me. And as my dreams grow bigger, as my ambitions stretch further, I owe it to my younger self to see them through. After all, it was me who dreamt them in the first place.
Tokyo was more than just a city; it was a timeline, a chapter, a feeling. I made friends whose paths may never cross mine again. I laughed, I struggled, I lived. There aren’t enough words to thank the people who shared those fleeting moments with me, but perhaps that’s the beauty of it. Some things don’t need words—they just exist in memory, in the spaces between then and now.
And so, I move forward. Not away, but onward. Tokyo will always be a part of me, in ways I have yet to understand. But for now, all I can do is take a deep breath and keep going.
To conclude this journey: It’s time to start living. Life is the greatest miracle to have ever happened. Look up at the sky and witness a masterpiece—billions of stars burning in silence, planets drifting among them. Look around and realize that you exist on the only one that breathes. Now, take a look in the mirror and understand that what you see is the greatest work ever created. We only get so much time to experience this life, and certainly not enough to do anything half-heartedly. If you’re going to do something, do it. If you have a dream, a vision—pursue it fully and embrace the journey that comes with it. So what if you get lost or fail? You learn, you find your way, you persevere. Because it is in that process, in that journey, that true living happens. And yes what I lost was never mine, but what you lost was only yours. Peace!!
