enough

I didn't realize it was a public holiday today until I went to the pharmacy and found it closed. I was really looking forward to a medically-assisted sleep tonight, but I guess I'll wait another day. 

It's raining, but I didn't bring an umbrella. The rain is soft and feels gentle against my cheek, like a caress. 

After discovering the pharmacy was closed, I kept walking until I reached the next neighborhood over. I went to a restaurant I'd been to once before. It's crowded. A lot of screaming babies. Usually, I don't find screaming babies particularly irritating. It is their first time on Earth after all, and they don't possess the language to communicate their needs. I possess the language, and I still scream and cry every now and then... albeit in private.

Sometimes, when I felt a bit blue, I'd go to a public space and just sit. Being surrounded by others was a strange sort of comfort, a way to confirm that I was a part of something bigger. Now it feels exactly the opposite. I feel confronted by how not part of things I am. Nobody around me would care if I disappeared. And yet, I still sit here. My heart is pounding, and my hands are shaking. I had to switch to a fork from chopsticks because my hands were shaking too badly to pick up any food. 

I look around and desperately wish I belonged. I think this is a feeling experienced by pretty much all expats living in Japan at some point, but exacerbated by recent trauma. My place in Japanese society feels contingent on my ability to provide. A body for their men, a teacher for their children. 

I'm frightened to think what might happen when I cease to give. When I have nothing left. Truth is, I'm already empty. I have nothing left. Well, that hardly seems to matter because I was empty when that high school boy groped me on the train this week. 

And even when I did give myself voluntarily, it wasn't enough. As evidenced by the man who tried to fuck me when I was asleep because he didn't want to use a condom, despite me having willingly slept with him the previous evening. 

When will it ever be enough?