There was no end…not for me.
Though, I question where it all began.
Somewhere in the darkest places where we fear ourselves…there is always a longing.
This is where my search, my need for fulfillment began…with Miyazawa.
Days passed. I knew them not. I ceased to understand why they passed so slowly, with such deliberateness, with such trembling.
Far away, my heart, like a mountain, seethed. The overwhelming force, the reasons against, the propositions for, all seemed to curl into an incisive corner of my deepest being.
My soul was sheered from my better sense, as it leaves all men when their higher faculties are lost in the haze of passion.
Passion is blind, and without strength to persevere, as there can be no hate without love, there can be no passion without its self-same absence.
I never wanted to love. I never sought it, be it in tears or the course of nothingness, where my mind dwelt before I understood the darkness.
Miyazawa…she was my savior, and the source of my greatest trial.
Void: The Origin of Desire
By
BPE Exeter
The days were becoming more and more melancholy. I'm not certain why I first noticed the changes between us. Maybe it was all the subtle aspects of our time together that began to shift my perceptions. Maybe it was the way our minds didn't seem to work in tandem like it used to. Or, perhaps it was just the rain.
It had stormed for days. The news reports had said that it was the largest typhoon in twenty years. I was beginning to believe that these conditions had to be abnormal because the way I felt was certainly nothing I could characterize as normalcy.
Then…I guess I've never been proficient at adjusting to changes. This, despite my recognition of the need for change, or, at least, my previous recognition of the limits of my own personality.
But the real reason, I began to recognize, was that I had become dependent. My affections inflated beyond its capacity and were beginning to pour into everything else. No matter how I tried to hide the truth, I could not escape the impending understanding constantly a threat to my sanity…
Asaba had told me not to worry, but Asaba does not understand the depths of my concern. This isn't the infantile jealousy of a suspicious lover, this isn't insecurity, no, it's something much more powerful than that.
This is something I can see in her eyes…
In the end, everything I fear is intangible. That's what frightens me the most because I can't measure it, I can't gauge its value in figures and quantities, it's something that I don't want to dwell upon; but every inch of me seeks in blindly.
Love is a limitation because of our limited perception…I remember reading that somewhere, and I believe that it is all too true. However, what becomes of love when it gives way to something all together different?
What happens when a person's affections become so much greater than even his own understanding? How can something within a man overcome him? Love is not the benevolent thing it appears, not in light of the destruction that it breeds.
But…what of Miyazawa? I've never actually talked with her about these things. It stands to reason that she may understand…but then…how could she? She's not the one that has become dependent; she's not the one that can't love herself out of an overwhelming love for another.
It's frightening. To think that I so abhor what I am. I wish that I could be comfortable with myself, above all else, but the demons of yesterday keep knocking my better sense into the maelstrom of doubt and apprehension. There is no rest for me, and I see this now, standing on a precipice where the two alternatives are "Go!" and "Wait."
Tomorrow is another tomorrow amongst an infinite stream of tomorrows. Let us wait and see…
A Classroom.
"Arima, darling!"
Her voice came innocently, like a fawn.
"Good morning, Miyazawa."
The cold of morning weighed the air against my lungs: It was heavy.
"Why the depressed look?"
I could not comprehend the concern; I couldn't see a conviction-only a comfort.
"I'm…tired…I suppose."
I fully expected to find an excuse, but there was none there to my satisfaction.
"You don't look tired, Arima, you look like your dog died."
Her levity made me angry for a moment; my expression didn't change.
"I don't have a dog, Miyazawa, you know that."
Humor was a novelty for me-I didn't need to resort to it.
"Well, excuse me for trying to cheer you up! Have you seen Asapin this morning? He's gone and got a heart tattooed on his chest. The girls are gathering like mad."
He'd have it no other way. It was his comfort.
"I'm sure he despises such attention."
My heart reflected its sorrow in words that meant nothing, but seemed like the sand after dawn-barely vital.
"You know he does."
Nothing was said for awhile, so I got up and walked over to the window. I saw a guy holding his girlfriend's hands. She seemed fragile, brittle, and stupid. I wondered if Miyazawa looked like this origami girl, when I held her.
There was nothing for a time.
The grim fancies. Those aspects of daily life that remind you of the absurd meaninglessness of existence, these things made me who I'd become. I couldn't change myself, but I was not beyond the necessity for change.
I heard the shattering from down the hall, but I didn't move. I sat and shook against the pain that tore through my mind. Another night, another dream, this time of a hatred that boiled over and wrapped around me, holding me close to the bosom of sorrow. I couldn't quite understand. I had, for so long hated myself, but now I was beginning to hate the rest of them much more.
Just beyond the immediacy of my perceptions, I could feel this need trampling my inhibition. The nauseous sense that soon the world around me would die quicker than I could revitalize myself. To halt this onslaught, I had but one alternative; I had but one person to call.
He came that afternoon and had slept. He slept and I couldn't tell him to wake. Asaba was free, and to awaken him from this slumber would be to awaken in me the defining truth of Asaba. I had long known that I was envious of him-his prowess, his humor, and his kindness. So much like Miyazawa, yet so dissimilar. I heard the shower cease. He stepped from beyond the mist, and the mist did not impede him.
"It's odd, Arima."
"What's odd?" The steam poured into the room. I heard the cat call outside.
"You normally wouldn't ask me to come here."
True…I would not ask. This was yet another example of my disdainful nature.
"I wonder…" The words burden the air and fall off.
"What do you wonder?"
He smiles, though he only seems bemused on the outside. Within him, God imbues no true passion…only the need to live. Existence is his only justification, and, somehow, I doubt he can know the misery that calls me, 'friend'.
"Can there ever be a love that isn't one-sided…can love be truly mutual?"
"I love you, Arima." Again, humor. I do not appreciate his joke, and he becomes silent.
There is silence for a time.
"Has something happened…with Miyazawa?"
He knows that there is only one thing that can destroy me, and he knows how to awaken that destruction. I hear the cat call once more. The sun is dropping, and the red swell of the dying day creeps inward. The floor creaks beneath the weight of his unanswered question, and I can find no answer. The ruin is desolate, I hear the sun melting heaven, the crow caws.
"I don't know."
A pause.
"Do you mean that you are unsure?"
"I mean that I do not know." I feel nothing in my voice, though, perhaps, he thinks I'm being short. There is no answer.
"She loves you, Arima. You love her. Why can't you feel good about it?"
"I don't lover her anymore…I think I've grown to need her."
"Are you bothered by this?" He seems concerned, but I do not understand this emotion.
"I need her…she doesn't need me." I want to weep, but I don't know how.
"Miyazawa loves you…that's all that matters."
I do not answer.
There was nothing for a time.
I found her in the park, beneath a cherry tree. The cherry blossoms had died long ago. Her hair smelled like lavender.
I held her. We sat and didn't speak.
She whispered.
"I love you."
I said nothing. The grass reflected in her eyeglasses. Her hands felt like silk.
"Do you?"
A young robin fell from a tree limb. The mother bird brought it back to the nest. It would still die.
"More than you can know."
We kissed. She tasted like Udon soup and cauliflower. I heard the music of her moan.
"I love you"
I made myself say over her torrid, bestial tones. Had I not wanted her so badly, I would not have cared that my heart was collapsing. I couldn't make love to her without a pure heart, so I held her back from me.
"Arima…where are you?"
"I am here."
"No…you are somewhere far away."
A cloud cast a pall over the sun. A child tore down his sandcastle. The minaret toppled like Babylon under the weight of Gabriel's ire. My soul felt something move, and I was moved, but I couldn't find the words. The grass, the wind, and the apprehension that impales me.
"How can that be? I am with you, right here. I don't want to be anywhere else."
Nothing came from my mouth that I thought true. The only concept I though real was the intense strain of my hatred. There was no object of my hate…only the breath that filled me.
"I'm beginning to realize something."
How I envy that tree, that blade of grass, or the mountain with no peak. The trials that have plagued me…I wonder…does the sea know this trial? Or, perhaps, the sea is stained crimson. Do I understand this?
"I need you."
"I need you."
Two voices became one. There was nothing, but there was always need. And, she showed me that day the reason.
Time passed.
To Be Continued…
Author's Notes:
I have long considered reworking this story, and I felt that the best justice that I could do it was by continuing. The style is the same, and I've attempted to maintain that mood through the second installment, but I think it fell short in some way. Also, I completely cut the ending section of this story because I received criticism regarding the ending. Admittedly, it was weak, and a bit too explicit, so I decided to leave it out entirely.
I have also fixed some minor errors that I felt detracted from the piece.
Regards,
Exeter