Lavender | Wakatoshi Ushijima

45 | Beautiful

It seems I've been cut open and stitched back up. My graceful nurse, Keiko, has been by my side all day. She tells me I was on and off yesterday. Eating, sleeping, eating. Can't remember.

Kiyo visited today, right after I got the wrap on my head taken off. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. She told me she's been visiting every other night. She and I talked and talked and talked, and she apologized. I said don't be, we cried, I tell her I love her, she hugs me again, and it's a big blur. She leaves to go back to the tournament, half an hour away in Matsushima. There he is, back to my mind. I can remember her constant apologies for not being there for me. They burned because it was true. I tell her how I feel. More tears and regrets and Keiko brings in emotional support banana milk.

A psychiatrist came today. 'How are you feeling? How did that make you feel? What were you thinking then?' I didn't know whether or not to trust him. I didn't. I know where this goes, down the drain straight to my parents' ears. No way in hell. I brush it all off, knitting excuses for him to make a positive evaluation. I overhear him telling Keiko I'm good to go. I dodged a bullet that's meant to be a bandaid.

Dr. Amane told me she ran lots of tests and forgetting to take my pills was one of the reasons I collapsed. I told them about the head sound and the ringing in my ears that became more frequent. I told them everything physical.

Thinking of that night makes me sick. I nodded until she and the other doctors went away. The surgery and the bone marrow transfusion went well. They say I'm on the road to recovery. I'm being taken off my pills.

I liked to think of them as my friends. They were consistent. Little capsules and circular beings, dancing in my palm before being swallowed whole. There was a pink one, a semi-teal one, and others. Those two were my favorites, they were the first ones I was prescribed with.

They've seen my highs and lows. Though they were on shelves their entire lifespan, they watched me cry, laugh, read, write, study, everything. Letting them go feels like letting myself go. Letting myself walk my own path in our world. Letting go of her hand and leaving her behind to watch me thrive. It pains me to leave her, but she'll walk her own way. The burden of carrying both of us has grown heavy.

A part of me still feels worn out, like it'll never beat and pulse the same. I wonder if they found the abyss in my stomach, if they fixed it too. Everything inside me is fixed, ready for a second chance. All but one.

Still stitched, scarred, and torn into shreds, with loose ends of thread and shards of glass poking out. My heart. I think of you everyday, Wakatoshi. Your beautiful face is everywhere, I find myself looking for it. Most times against my will. I constantly think of the day I'll let him go, wondering if my heart will stop swelling.

I wonder what he's doing. Constantly crossing my mind with the birds and the breeze. I put my necklace back on this morning. My fingers find it in times of stress. Cold metal searing against my healing fingertips.

I woke up today to a bright sun dancing in my room. Golden rays vibrating through the glass and brightening everything at their touch. I see them, touching my face. I close my eyelids and soak it in. I absorb every bit of it. The backs of my eyelids turn white and I feel the heat through my thin gown. I cry at some point. I'm emotionally distressed. I have no idea how else to regulate my emotions.

This morning, Keiko helped me off the bed to sit on the couch. She turned it to face the view and helped me settle, offering me her hand for stability. I sat there, fingers jittering, body tingling with insects running up my spine faster than the wind. Keiko draped my blanket on the arm of the chair, in case I want more warmth.

I love the big glass that faces the gardens. I love drinking my morning tea, coincidentally green, and watching the flocks of birds orbiting the skies so gently. Watching Sendai come back to life, busily moving ahead, only for it to die down again. Green and blue clash to give me lively scenery every day, and I can't get enough of it. It's therapeutic.