side effect of media coverage
-actual journalist saying it could be fake news
-racist 2ch pricks saying he ought to have gone back to his country in the first place
-nobody addressing the actual fucking problem
a lot has happened
the cause of his death was discovered. it was deep vein thrombosis. the likely cause: being restrained in bed for 10 days. I firmly believe he was murdered.
his story is being reported across the world now. when you google his name, you can read all the disgusting details.
this is set to become a scandal. or at least I hope it will.
I pity his family who have had this burden thrust on their shoulders, and hope they maintain the strength to fight.
it’s all over now, his family is gone
nothing’s more sad than seeing an entire family crying and hugging at the airport.
and to add insult to injury, their flight was canceled last-second. but they got transferred and had to run to their new one.
it’s never gonna feel normal but at least I can start to rebuild my life now.
we moved his furniture to a storage room today after work. in total the coins we collected off the floor came to over $200. so basically he bought us all dinner tonight.
his last name was a really unique word and I keep seeing it pop up recently, it’s weirding me out.
wanna know the creepiest shit?
he lived in room 404
(technically 405, because japanese buildings usually skip 404 for superstitious reasons)
we made it through the memorials. two of them today. it was so exhausting. so many pictures and songs that made me cry.
we entered his apartment for the first time. everything was a disgusting mess. garbage and coins and dust everywhere, stained barren mattress, crushed cigarettes in cups, lighters scattered in every room, and most disturbingly, all the pills. blister packs on every surface, some full, some empty. loose pills on tables and under the bed.
he was so disturbed.
the day he left, he left with just the clothes on his back. too disoriented to drive, he got into a cab to the airport. he left his car and apartment keys on the table in his unlocked apartment. his laptop was still charging in the corner. next to his front door, stacks of months-old overdue bills. I saw one letter from the electric company with the dates circled in red: please pay your bill for february 2017 by may 5th. slips for undelivered packages in early april.
his family want everything gone. I’ll be continuing to help them clean his room for the next couple of days. I don’t want his furniture in my house because it scares me but I have no choice. I stole a couple books. his parents gave me his brand new, unopened printer.
the hard stuff is over now. after today I can finally start to move on, thank god.
after all this has blown over, it will be so good to appreciate my life, my family and friends, and my loving and supportive boyfriend.
the prospect of leaving this country in just 2 months seemed like an unscalable hurdle, but now I know that as long as I’m alive then everything is okay.
Cigarettes After Sex | Apocalypse
when you’re all alone
I will reach for you
when you’re feeling low
I will be there too
sadness is an accessory I’ve worn for many years, but when it came time to navigate it, I was blind.
tonight we had dinner with his family. it was the perfect mish-mosh of clichés you’ve ever seen on TV and in movies about death. words like “he’s at peace now,” “he looks like he’s sleeping,” “he was such a good guy.”
I sat next to his brother. his brother looks exactly like him, but due to a childhood of moving across the globe, his brother has an american accent, whereas he had a kiwi accent.
as the alcohol wore on we eased from conversation about how his parents met (doing scientific research at the south pole !!!) to sharing memories and laughing at stories to pictures and then, a picture of his body at the funeral last wednesday. surrounded by flowers and a box of his favorite cookies. at first I didn’t want to see, but someone asked me if I did, and I looked. it was horrible but exactly what I needed. I could only see his face for a second before it was unbearable. bluish pale, thin, clean-shaven, exactly unlike he was in life.
I heard how his recovery had seemed bright, and how in the span of a couple of days he became delirious and paranoid. after two years adjusting to life here, he decided to stop taking his meds because he thought he was better.
the thought of an open coffin funeral had always seemed unnecessarily voyeuristic to me. but now I understand the human need to see. up until now I was able to move on a little every day, carrying on about my life pretending nothing had happened. in the back of my mind I wasn’t entirely convinced that he wouldn’t come home one day after work like the rest of us. I saw someone come into the office out of the corner of my eye and I thought it was him. but the photo, even though it’s scary and hard to face, solidifies in my mind the fact that he isn’t going to. and that makes me terribly sad.
Title: Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2
Artist: Frederic Chopin
can I shout into the void?
because I’ve been thinking about Death ‘N Stuff™
(via shamemibaa)
Eruption of Sakurajima volcano, Kagoshima, Japan, 1914 (via Photo Tractatus)
Last week I noticed one of my favorite students has been absent every week when I visit his school. I asked the English teacher if he was okay. She said he’s been in a hospital for a month because he started seeing hallucinations. I’m heartbroken. They think he might be schizophrenic. The poor kid is 13 years old and has a heart of gold. He’s sweet, respectful, smart, responsible, always smiling, and one of our star English students. He was in the school archery club and was the first on stage at the city’s English speech contest to talk about his experiences there. The teacher said she doesn’t know if he’ll ever come back to school.
It really kills me. I tried listening to a simulation of what the voices sound like to people and I couldn’t get halfway through the 3 minute video. It was really scary. I can’t imagine waking up in the night and seeing something there that shouldn’t be, which was the incident that put him in the hospital. Nobody could ever deserve that life. I just want to give him a big hug but I probably won’t see him again. I’ll see if I can send him a nice postcard.