Not here in this place—
but I just feel as though my body is being touched by raindrops outside.

I’m gazing into the horizon while sitting on my swing,
wondering—
Won’t I grow tired one day,
if I ever step outside for a moment?

I’m just wondering…

I have no desire to become shattered,
to be pecked at by chickens like I was in the past.

I smile.

I have so many memories—
but I have the memory of a goldfish.
I barely remember…

Unless the—

…Unless the memory is wrapped in a powerful emotion—
a black feeling, or a red one.

And in both cases…
I don’t like either color.

I love my whiteness—
like a daisy blooming.
Even though I adore the sunflower more.

Maybe because it reminds me of the radiance that fills this space I call my own…
Or maybe because it reminds me of the sun—
the sun that sets to make way for darkness.

Maybe it’s because here, I am like the sun…
but I fear my own sunset.

Even though I know there’s always a moon.
And in the moon’s light, the stars shine beautifully—
maybe their glow is faint,
but they never fear the dark.

Those stars are my memories,
fading slowly…
or maybe shimmering softly, just enough to say:
“I’m still here.”

I don’t know.

I mean—
here I am under my massive tree,
swaying gently on my swing,
thinking of things I don’t want to think about.

I have no need for the sun,
and yet I smile whenever I remember its presence.

Then my smile disappears again
when I remember its setting—
how it leaves a gentle trace upon my heart…
before fading,
and letting the darkness wrap everything in black.

And each time that darkness takes over,
a smile appears before me from nowhere,
red sparks flutter in the air,
and the moon softly glows again…
and I smile once more.

I know it’s her.

She loves the darkness—
and she always wants to take my place.

Or maybe…
maybe my dear shadow
is simply wiping the sadness from my face.

Maybe she’s still in pain.
Because she stole my smile back then…
because she was cruel—
she made me cry.

And yet,
she always reminds me that there is a moon.
A moon that never fails to light up my darkness.

Maybe…
maybe my darkness is myself.
And maybe the moon… is me too.

Here I am now,
smiling while looking down,
gazing at the floor glowing white beneath my bare feet.

I don’t know…
I want to meet myself.
But I’m afraid.

Afraid that if I do,
the balance will collapse.
Afraid the red thread will break one day.

Mmm…
there’s a scent in the air.
Let me breathe it in deeply—

Aaah…
the smell of rain.

I want to take a look.

Will my other self let me, I wonder?

I mentioned before that I’m not good at telling stories…
not even at talking about myself.

And also… I have a terrible memory.

Now I wonder—
how did I manage to get good grades and high ranks back when I was in school?
I think it had to do with how intensely I could focus, right?
I don’t really know…

I mean,
I’m good at focusing on things that excite me—
things that light a spark inside me.

I remember I was good at solving difficult math problems,
while I often looked completely clueless when it came to the easy things everyone else could solve.

Even now,
I still feel the embarrassment I used to carry back then.

I wonder…
does my face turn red when I feel embarrassed in public?
I’m not sure.

What I do know is—
I laugh at my mistakes every time.

And I never let anyone make me feel weird about it,
because I was aware.
I knew.

Ahh…
I want to lie down gently on my swing—
let the air push me softly,
gracefully,
slowly enough to lull me to sleep.

I want to sleep…
but I know I can’t.
Even if I wanted to.

This body of mine will tremble—
knowingly or unknowingly—
because if I sleep…
I’ll sink into rosy dreams that I’ll fall in love with.

And then…
I’ll disappear into them.

Isn’t that right… me?

Here I am, smiling while tilting my head slightly backward,
addressing the version of me that hovers gently around—
her arrogant smile almost beginning to form on my face,
as darkness begins to fill the space around me.

But I…
I don’t want to meet you right now.

I turned my head forward again—
and smiled.

Do you realize, me…
our smiles are alike?

Even mine sometimes carries a little arrogance too.