For dearest Yumi and learning to lose my way again and again…

Chapter One – Veritas

Here is the difference between you and me. I know there is no such thing as enlightenment, and you… the person sitting there and reading this will tell me that truth, the feeling of existence, and the will and power of love, contentment, and hope is and forever will be there. The truth of the matter is that I used to be like you too. I believed in the idea that truth – in all it’s simplicities and complexities in function and form – all it’s paradoxes revolved around us and that one day, maybe, I would find it.

Why is it then that I say it doesn’t exist? Well, maybe that’s stepping too far. For the over-zealous truth is often times supreme, whether it be religion or conviction – a notion or cause – it commands the believer. There is truth in their mind, and in their actions they believe that they are achieving, reaching, or on the path to truth. For the romantics… well, passion then comes in a different form. It is the same kind of faith we talk about when we speak of god; it is the faith of love. However, no matter which type of truth, we often find that truth is hardly ever attainable, and for those to claim to have obtained it there is hardly ever any proof.

Why are we here then? If not to seek truth, if not to condition ourselves to live life, why do we exist? Well, I won’t lie, I can’t answer that question. I can answer one question though. What is truth like?

You might how? How would someone who declares that he knows that truth doesn’t exist knows what it feels like? It is simple really. In order to understand this “truth” that is unattainable – I must have to define it first.

Truth is all the world’s agonies, and all the world’s beauties, and all the world’s infinities. I apologize for the poetic nature of that line, but if anything I can prove all that I have and will say. If you haven’t guessed, I used to be the latter seeker of truth – the romantic.

To lay some foundation – first off I know that in order for there to be truth, we must be able to sense truth. Somehow, human beings have this inherent program in them that tells them there is something greater out there. There may be an ocean of reasons for this feeling, but regardless it is a feeling. Feelings are part of sensations. Sensations come in many forms and definitions – the most common, the five senses. There is the sensation of hearing, touching, smelling, tasting, and seeing. However, even if all five are put together, we are not complete. There are many things we cannot hear, touch, smell, taste, or see and thus we believe that there must be something else more extravagant out there, something more important, more commanding than these senses.

To this date, I have yet to be able to hear, touch, smell, taste, or see one. Therein lies the paradox. How can convince ourselves there is truth, if an essential part of truth lies beyond what we can sense?

Don’t get me wrong though, I am not riding on this train and writing this simply because I want to disprove your beliefs or try to convince you that your faith is misplaced… people who have faith are more often in better places that those who don’t. This is a story – this is a story of truth – that tells of agony and beauty, of the infinities of desire, longing, loving, and losing.

In the end, it is that – the infinity of truth – in which I lost myself. I guess; I realized that maybe the only way to reach truth is by never seeking it.

But like all things in this universe, maybe truth is just unavoidable. You see, I never openly sought for truth… nor inherently for that matter. No… no… truth or be it love… found me. And it swept me… uncontrollably; unfathomably; unpretentiously… it took me up. And then… when faced with horror… I found truth – it’s infinities and it’s cruel true nature. Truth was never so untrue.

So by now, you might be wondering… what is he talking about? What exactly does he mean he found truth and what does he mean he means truth doesn’t exist? I guess that only answer I can give is that I like using vague words to define this vague feeling I have.

I’m not writing this because the love that I found – my truth – has left me… not in the metaphoric sense at least. I am not depressed because love has abandoned me – no actually quite the opposite. I am not writing this because love does not beat in my heart anymore – quite clearly I am writing this because my most cherished memories are memories now, my once immortal beloved has felt the sting of mortality and is no longer here in reality.

No… truth is truly more impossible than ever imagined. It is like the rhythm… beating endlessly… like that night I first arrived to my destination.

That night the train sped through the woods outside of Honshu countryside, the dark abyss outside was half split and half preserved by the sprinkling rain – made more powerful by the movement of the train. Here was the first story I was going to cover as a writer?

There was an empty feeling in me then. As silent as the night… people told me that I could write, but I saw no future with words. Words did not change nations, words do not change destinies… words were fated chains… and the more we used the more restricted we are – in definition, in explanation, in description. No, I didn’t want to pursue a career in writing… which is why I decided to edit the words other people wrote.

Three days ago, I had received a letter from an anonymous name and a check. The letter had asked me to review a manuscript of a biography written for some Japanese old mafia boss… but I couldn’t imagine why they would want me… I couldn’t understand how they contacted me, but the check was clearly made to my name, and it was clearly far too much money to turn down.

I really had no future, and no past… and so the empty feeling, carried me to an empty plane, then an empty train from the empty midnight halls of Narita to the empty fields of the Tokyo countryside to the empty stop at Nippori station as I had just missed the last train.

With nothing but a handbag, a laptop, some spare cash, and the letter in hand… I walked out of the station to the now full night life of Tokyo… Here was the first change I had experienced… here was the last time I would ever be alone…