When I look at my world but consider it the others’, I am happy like crazy. However, behind the outside happiness, I don’t know what left inside myself. Ignoring the old sad memories just confuses my mind.
In the end, I still have to think about myself and struggle with a mess inside. Why was it so smooth before? I feel like I’m falling in the air space, fondle and try to handle some pieces of emotion I catch. Even when I have enough courage to remember, I can’t dare to look straight at it, just close my eyes startlingly though they are closed. Sometimes I’ve got crazy like a beast getting mad, although a half of me yesterday was still fool. I try and try to figure out how to get the “emotion”, but it’s not easy.
Sometimes I also feel satisfied with the sadness I’ve explored, then feel like I intend, and it’s so meaningless. Every day I fulfill myself with an extraordinary happiness and an empty blue, but lastly just the empty blue stays.
And it’s just a bunch of petty pieces.
– Ai Hidenori –