It's like my body is exploding--when I think back to those hot nights in that second story room, pitch-black trains blowing by at 60 miles per hour in the after-midnight, emotions there thicker than the darkness, and sometimes, more tangible than the flesh attached to my bones.

Last night I was in bed, staring at the ceiling, and then out the window at the leaf-blown yard and its yet-to-be-evaporated puddles; and then all of a sudden, when my thoughts were halfway between the immediacy of that cool breeze creeping through my window and the hopelessness of the future, one of those amazing memories that you can feel came upon me like one of those trains pounding by...

The Kenshukan and the cramped dorm room. A certain obnoxious roomate. Late, late nights studying, just the two of us. Those clubs with their music and those subways with their people--oh, those people! The kitchen and the people who would wake up before me. The TV room. The computer room. Those familiar places... like a trembling in my heart came fluttering back in crystal clarity for a fleeting moment, to excite me and energize me, and make me think about all those that I love and have yet to meet again...

Takayuki and Yasukun had left that morning. Back to Tokyo...

... and there I was again, disconnected, in my bed; confused by these memories that just won't let my soul have any kind of peace.

Yesterday was a sort of second ending, because though I had actually left Japan over 2 months ago, Japan had finally left me, when those two turned their backs and walked toward their plane... just like that, gone.

It's amazing how much one's life can change in such a short time.

A year gone, and here I am.

Moved from a comfortable life of working and school and hard-earned 4.0's in Lincoln, to the unknown of Japan, then back to Lincoln for a winter break that was filled with more love than four weeks were meant to hold, then back--teary eyed--to the comfortable life of Japan, then back to the unknown of Lincoln.

And it's the unknown that's the worst.

Returning to Lincoln was by far the most stressful emotional situation that I've ever had to deal with in my life. Between the separation from those I loved in Japan, and the rejection of those I had loved in Lincoln, I found little relief at night--even after the tears ran out.

And now here I am.

Things have sort of finally come to this conclusion, all at once.

Sara is gone.

Japan is gone.

And ... I ... just ... am.

Nothing seems appealing at all, except living, and just going through the motions, until who knows what.

Those dreams of Japan aren't really dreams at all, but just memories, and who knows what will happen if I ever go back, or if I even want to go back.

Everything just sort of feels lost, and done.

My inspiration is gone, my motivation is gone.

I'll just press on for now, without reason, without a goal, with nothing really in mind, at all.