The Elusive Japanese Glade plugIn Scent

It is nothing but a pain in the pit of my stomach, yet it is so much more than that. It is a pain that reminds me of my mortality, my vulnerability, and my loneliness. There is a stark contrast between the chapters of my life, which seemed to have passed by in a colorful blur like the pages of a children’s book. We either spend our lives trying to obtain what we once lost, or striving to escape a particular part of ourselves. Maybe I came back to Tokyo to escape a part of myself, or perhaps to discover a new part of me, a stronger part of me. I’m not proud of the version of myself that drowns her problems with a couple of drinks, or the version of me who looks in the mirror and can only focus on holding back the tears. The people who love me, the people I can always count on, they’re the one’s who have showed me my own potential. Without them, I doubt I ever would be able to do the things I can do now. Whenever I feel like I’m too weak, too broken, and too alone, I turn to those people. How will I ever be able to accurately portray how much I love them and miss them?

 I will try not to be too dramatic. I will try not to say that there is a gaping hole in my heart. No, in a way it is worse than that. As if a gap in my consciousness has appeared. As if a part of my rationale has disappeared. That voice in the back of your head, that reassuring voice of logic, I feel like I left that behind in America with a few old pairs of shoes and a box filled with my beloved cat’s ashes. So how is it that people move out, move on, and somehow manage to leave room in their luggage for the rational part of their brain? My family and my friends are the rational part of my brain. They have always been there to hold the mirror up to my face and rightfully tell me when I was being a screwup. It’s harder than it sounds to hold that mirror with your hands. In fact, it’s downright terrifying. We will likely never enjoy what we see looking back at us.

 It’s so easy to analyze others and tell them what it is that needs fixing. It’s so easy to place blame instead of grasping that mirror. My over-analytical nature is a blessing and a curse. I sincerely believe it has been a key to my success, I also believe that it could very easily destroy me. In a way, writing it all down feels like the only way to drain the clot in my consciousness. My brain is overcrowded like a city full of screaming pedestrians and honking cars— and if I can get it all out, then maybe there may be a night of peace in that city where the noises never stop. So here’s my attempt.

 Like my crusty and cynical journalism professor told me more than once, my writing is too wordy. I should’ve told him my analogy about my crowded brain city. He surely would’ve scoffed and told me to bug off. Journalism, true journalism, leaves no space for the voice of the writer. I might as well be painting a blank canvas with white paint. I know, objectively, the world doesn’t need my wordy articles and overthought analogies. I could ramble on about how my entire life itself holds little merit, just like everyone else, but I will spare you all the pain of reading that. Instead, let me paint you a meaningful moment while using a palette of colors instead of white.

 It’s a park. I mean, it could be any park, and in a way it is. But there’s something in the air that brings a moment of solace to my mind filled with thoughts of anxiety. I like to think of it as a smell. Maybe it really is a smell, or maybe it’s something that only exists in my mind that I’ve tricked myself into believing. The smell comes with the wind and it when it hits me it’s not too sweet but it vaguely reminds me of fresh cherry blossoms. The smell is warm too, like when my mom used to wrap me up in my blankets like a burrito when I was small. It feels like a hug. It feels like the sunshine on my shoulders on a day with not a care in the world. The scent in the air of this park is love to me. It makes me feel like I’m not alone. As if somehow from beyond the grave my grandmum is embracing me with the way the color pink feels.

 So, yeah, the park is special to me. To everyone else, it’s actually just a space with trees. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was over-analytical. But you see, this smell doesn’t just exist in the wind that rustles the leaves on the ripe trees. It exists where I least expect it. And for some reason I can only find it in Japan. Too bad there wasn’t a Glade plugIn for, “Warm, Sweet, Sakura Smell that also Feels like a Hug”, or maybe I wouldn’t have moved my entire life across the world for the second time. It’s more of a feeling than anything else.

*I found the "I love you" scent (Yes, I know it's a "Glade Sensations", but really who cares), but no "Mysterious Happy Hug Japanese Park" smell can be found. Bigfoot is quaking honestly. HMU if you find the elusive smell, even in candle form. It would save me a lot of time, money, and stress next time I am craving that scent.

 I can’t express why I came back. Sure, some people in my life can quickly label my return as a fling abroad. To infer that is to say that I was chasing romance across the world like a romantic comedy movie. It’s not an aspect of my journey that I will try to deny. But the journey is so much more than that. The journey is a discovery. Of love, yes. But in more ways than one. The journey of love for myself, love for life, and love for the experience itself. I want to learn more about all kinds of love, as cheesy as it sounds. I swear it’s really not a ROM-COM.

 The most important discovery I want to make is that of loving myself. I want to learn a new kind of comfort on my own and I want to believe in myself. I want to accomplish that this year. I know you can’t put a time limit on learning to accept yourself and live independently. Hell, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to confidently say that I have mastered the craft. But if this is the first step, then that’s how it has to be. It just had to be that Japanese Glade plugIn smell that made Tokyo the place that I had to go to begin that first step. Sometimes the first step is the biggest and hardest step. I’ve always been good at just falling into the lake instead of dipping my toes in the water to test it out first. Sometimes the water is too cold and I instantly regret the decision that I have made. But the great part about being human is that the body adjusts quickly and what once felt like a freezing lake of loneliness adjusts to a temperature that you can bear, or even enjoy. It’s all about lasting long enough to adjust to the feeling. I am simply hoping that I last long enough to adjust.