No man is an island (that never cries)

Sup, ya’ll. I though of writing in somehow a chronological order… at first it sounded kinda logical, but my brain seems to work in illogical ways. I think I can’t tell everything in order, or else I would never catch up with anything. Specially when everyday is a struggle entirely new.

Not exciting… just a struggle, we all have that, right? Right?…. Right.

I also thought I could write every single day, but I guess it’s impossible when you work 12 hours a day and watch to netflix (or read a book, actually I’m reading most of the time lately, but that’s another story). And, if anyone, somehow, somewhere by miracle or lack of better things to do — such as clean a clean spot cleanness — it would be impossible for him (or her) read all and keep up with the stories. Even so when a story can be connected to the other, but I’ll do my best to link those up… if I remember.

Anyway, “no man is an island.” That old saying from John Donne poetry never made so much sense. My first days in Japan I had no internet connection and nothing in my apartment, aside from a TV, fridge and microwave, also that survivor kit I mentioned in my second story. Could’ve watch TV, but wasn’t feeling like. I wanted someone to talk, BADLY. There were only one other brazilian with my on the plane, and she (and her 6 years old kid, that makes two brazilians, I’m sorry) were there to meet her husband, so no one in the same shoes as myself.

In Japan, most of the konbini (convenience stores), also a lot of other establishments has free wi-fi. Seven Eleven is quite famous for that. So I stood outside it smoking a cigarette after work to buy my dinner and talk to my friends and family through whatsapp. So, time difference doesn’t help much, since my night time is actually day time in Brazil. That made chatting somehow difficult, but still did. Still wanted to talk to someone.

Remember my apartment? Yeah, it was so empty and sad that when I was eating alone I could hear my heartbeat. I’m not joking. I… LITERALLY… could HEAR… my goddamn HEARTBEAT. It was so quiet and peaceful in that town that nighttime, was a deadly silence.

Don’t need to say it… I felt quite depressive. I still feel quite depressive, but by different causes, I guess.

During those weeks I really felt empty and one thing I talked to my friends a lot later, after I got internet installed back in my old apartment, was: “this feeling of isolation is something I will NEVER wish to anyone”. It’s all good and well at first, but literally, no friends, no colleges, no family… literally no one to talk to, after a few weeks of that and you start to have some crazy thoughts. I kinda know now how it feels being locked up in solitary, or abandoned in a deserted island.

Complementing John Donne poem, Plato had said that humans are political creatures, they are meant to live in society, in a community, outside it, they became salvages, simple animals. And I (again) kinda understand that now.

This is how my apartment looked like during my first 2 or 3 weeks after arriving in Japan.

After sometime I started to receive some postcards from my auntie back in Brazil. She lives near one of many beaches… don’t gonna say it the name, I also forgot. Those postcards are some of beautiful scenarios near where she lives, and some others. Always with some really heartwarming messages hand written. These were quite fantastic, nothing, and I mean, NOTHING replaces an old fashioned hand written letter… NOTHING. The feel it brings I could never imagine feeling it reading a message on my cellphone or e-mail.

Those were awesome, but it was the first, during those hard lonely weeks, that had hit me the most. Don’t wanna sound like a wuss (more then I already am), but try to picture you, never have lived alone in your life, on the other side of the planet, with no one that you know, no contact (ok just during my trips at the closest Seven Eleven) not being able to talk to anyone… how the hell am I supposed to feel?

This is the front of the postcard (don’t have a scanner)

This is the hand written postcard, the first of many that I received from her

So when I read that super small text, those words, and that picture… I cried. I cried like a freak’n teenager. I felt the loneliest bastard in the whole world.

The text reads:

Hello, Felipe! [that’s me!]

On the other side of the world there’re people that loves you and cheer for your happiness. Kisses! Auntie Suely.

This beach is from my godmother’s house Cenira.

So, it’s past midnight now (midday in Brazil, hooray!) and I started writing this thinking of something… truth be told I though of write about it a hell of a long, long time ago… that happened today at work.

Thing is, my uncle died last week, cancer metastasis. He was a great dude. Not perfect, mind you, but who the hell is? Still, he was somehow one quiet guy that tried not to draw much attention. But he was always there in family reunion and… I don’t know, we weren’t that close because of this sense of reservedness he had, but he was a close uncle. That made me sad (duh…) but not more than I thought it would.

Although… I felt some kind of emptiness. I’m passing through some deep shit right now — like on of the biggest in my useless pit-full of excuse of life — so I didn’t feel that sad… still… empty. Like he’s so far away that seems like receiving news from a television. Something distant and unreal. I know I won’t be seeing him again and I missed the last Christmas and New Year with him… and that won’t come back.

I’m so far, so unattached that his death made me realize how empty I have become living alone. Or so I though I was empty, until today (or yesterday, cos it’s past midnight and all).

Ok, so where I work, not the best place in the world. Not the worst either, but hardly tolerable, that’s why I quit it, serving my notice now. Still, even in hell you find good people. Some would say in war you find your brothers and sisters, something like that.

Anyway, there was this nice, cheerful and lively old japanese woman, she was ALWAYS happy. Never knew her secret, I try to be cheerful, people just bring me down, guess everyone (or almost everyone) likes to work feeling like a bag of shit (another story), so after I got yelled at, or someone look like a willing to kill me and my enthusiasm, I just shut my mouth and start look around like a zombie. She, on the other hand… was always talkative and joyful. Don’t need to say, some people hated her and they did some really annoying things to try and upset her.

So, around 2 weeks ago (or less, I lost my sense of time here) she quit the job. Not because everyone enjoy working like zombies. Not because some people tried to bring her down. No because some other (and the same) people liked to talk bad shit behind her back. But because her daughter wasn’t feeling well and she, herself, wasn’t exactly pristine in health.

Today a buddy of mine told she has passed.

Heart failure.

In that moment I knew that I still had something inside of me, and that, after that, I really, really became empty.

I didn’t felt that bad for my uncle.

I didn’t felt that sad for my uncle.

I didn’t felt that empty for my uncle.

I didn’t felt that urge to cry for my uncle.

But I did for her. That cheering old lady that smiled, played pranks, waved at others… is gone, not only from the factory, but from this world. That hit the spot.

Sometimes… or most of the times… at least for me… life really like to kick me in the stomach while I’m still down, trying to get up. And among this darkness, it takes away the only few lights that shines the way. One by one.

First I thought I was tired of Japan… but I think I’m getting tired of life.

Relax, not gonna kill myself, not yet anyways (I smoke if you don’t realized yet), but… yeah… as I see good people just… leaving like that, it makes my think… is it worth it to be cheerful and lively? Is it worth it to try and help everyone, to try and make everyone smile and laugh?

Guess I came to the right country to find my ultimate test… Japanese don’t smile. They are conditioned to smile at the right times. She was different.

And I gotta say it… Even if I die not that old like she did, but living as lively, happily, and joyfully like she did… Damn, I would do it without a blink.

But it’s impossible. Sometimes, life will bring you down, and even if you try to get up, after 1000 times getting kicked back, it just gets old and tiring.

Could be I’m just getting bitter. Or I always were, just now I’m realizing that trying be happy and spread happiness, is not something this world actually needs.

Sad times we live in.

Sad times I live in.

Whenever you are, whomever you are with… I know you’ll cheer everything up.

‘Atta girl! And godspeed!