It's been three years since I landed in Japan with the intent to move there, more like four since I made the decision to move there. If I were to sum it up, I'd say it was a good run. If I had to put it into words, I'd call my time in Tokyo bittersweet with a touch of melancholy.
I left Tokyo months ago, but even then it didn't really feel like leaving — it didn't even faze me, I didn't really even realize that I was leaving my cozy little Yutenji haunt for good. Maybe it's because I didn't actually leave Japan — I just went down to Kyoto to see a close friend, to get in a few days of relaxation before I threw myself into the whirling, stressful pool of chaos that is trying to start anew. Chaotic, but what I needed.
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I am, perhaps, one of those people whom parents do not want their kids to be influenced by, to look up to.
Among other reasons, I like meeting strangers, eating and drinking with them, hanging out with them.
The way I see it, we were all — at one time recent or long ago — strangers to one another.
I am one of those people who does not believe in altruism, in true selflessness.
I believe that giving coexists with receiving — while the so-called "reward" of "altruism" may not be monetarily or quantifiably equal, it is most certainly emotionally so.
There is perhaps nothing more satisfying, more happiness-inducing, for me than to see others happy. I love helping people — you could probably even say I thrive on it and you wouldn't be too far off.
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