"The cherry blossoms we won’t see again are burnt into my memory."

The third-years graduated today. I was surprised the other day to realize how much I was going to miss them. I somehow hadn't taken in consideration that I was going to get attached. Which is ridiculous because I get attached to everyone, no matter how brief our contact. There's a reason I have the quote everywhere, "If I never meet you in this life, let me feel the lack. One glance from your eyes and my life will be yours." It's from The Thin Red Line, a graphic war movie of the sort I usually don't care for, but that one line hit me me harder than any explosion shown. From the boy who made me tea at the cafe I went to every week during college, or the woman I sat next to on the plane, to everyone I went to school and camp with or am related to, I tie these strings to them and when I remember them it tugs at me and I can see it glowing far into the distance. So naturally I'm going to be attached to 233 fifteen-year-olds who have been the bulk of my social interaction for the last eleven months. I suppose I was just hoping otherwise because nothing renders me more a tantrum-y infant than the sickening, frustrated helplessness of saying goodbye. "It's not fair," is the only thing I can say. It's not fair that the entire world is structured in a way that connects us to people and than tears us apart. What's keeping me calm this time is remembering that teachers do this every year, and there will be a new graduating class next year. That shouldn't be comforting, but it means the edges do wear away. And also, knowing that it's not hard for the students to say goodbye to me, since in the long run a once-a-week assistant language teacher doesn't matter much, compared to their classmates and home-room sensei. I think it's the first time admitting my own lack of importance has been a positive point.

 

Song of the Day: Tsuyoshi has a DVD coming out tomorrow - plus a photobook, and then a new album and single next month. Busy boy. Plus he changed his stage name again, which means I might have to start call him the artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as Domoto Tsuyoshi, concurrently known as a member of Kinki Kids. If I didn't take him so seriously as a musician, I wouldn't take him seriously at all. This song, from his concert last year, is called "Haru Namida" or Spring Tears, appropriately enough.