…i wish that you would pick up when you know i’m calling.

it’s april now, which means i get to treat myself to rewatching one of my favorite pieces of media out there: 四月は君の嘘。i haven’t watched anime in a long time. i think that’s because a part of me still associates it with my former boyfriend, since one of the first things we ever bonded over—and one of the largest points we continued to bond over during our relationship—was anime. it’s embarrassing to look back on to some extent, but i try to remember that our relationship was nice while it lasted, and that for the most part, i was happy.

happiness has been a bit hard to come by lately. i think that’s cause i’ve been stressed. the short film i’m directing starts shooting this friday, and then it’s four days of multi-hour shoots. i haven’t directed something before, but i’ve grown up in theatre, so i think i have a good idea of how things like blocking work, and what kind of feedback tends to actually garner responses and changes in behavior by actors. i just hope things work out. i really want to make something i’m proud of. my older sister once said to me that she never likes any of the art she ever makes about her dead friends, and i’m kind of terrified of that happening to me with this short film. but i guess i don’t get to know what will happen.

my roommates and i started watching stranger things over spring break. we’re now on season four. i like it, but it’s not the kind of show i would have ever watched on my own because i am huge baby who does not handle horror or thriller elements well at all. i think the stellar acting performances is what really sells the series for me. some minor stranger things spoilers and slight gore ahead.

we’re at a point in the show where characters keep mysteriously dying, and their bodies are found twisted unnaturally. stranger things has frightened me before this many times, but while watching today’s episode was the first time i ever felt a little bit sick. and here’s the thing: it’s not because i was scared. it’s because that imagery of twisted bodies, fingertips hanging unnaturally almost as if melting, felt familiar.

when i was in elementary school, my family visited the hiroshima peace memorial. i’ve written about this before, but i think it’s something i’ll always remember. i remember crying uncontrollably as i listened to the audio guide replay the story of a young boy looking for his mother after the bombing, only to find her bones and whisper, “oh no, mother’s bones… mother’s bones…” i remember not knowing how to fold a paper crane as i exited the museum—something everyone is supposed to do to pay their respects. but above all else, i remember the sculptures. those fucking sculptures.

anyone who’s been to the museum over the last two decades knows what i’m referring to. these sculptures were actually removed a few years back on the grounds that they excessively frightened schoolchildren, but essentially, they depicted atomic bomb victims literally dying on the spot—skin melting, bones peeking through, bodies twisted. and as i watched that fucking episode of stranger things tonight, a show that is meant to be fictional and eerie and fantastical, i found myself deeply sad that i could relate the visuals so easily to the lived experiences of my ancestors. i don’t know. it just… it felt weird, i guess. maybe it’s nothing.

i often feel this pit in my stomach when i think about the incarceration of japanese americans and the bombings of hiroshima and nagasaki. maybe this is part of what they call generational trauma. i won’t pretend to know.

every time i start writing these entries i think i have so many ideas, and then once i get a few paragraphs, i’m at a loss for words. did i mention in my last newsletter that my therapist referred to me as a basket case the other day? did i mention that my sister is dating a transphobic man and i don’t know how to deal with that as a trans person? did i mention that my father called me about nothing in particular for the first time in a long while? did i mention that he knows i’m queer?

i think college has felt a little bit too good to be true. there’s a part in bojack horseman where the titular character says to a friend that rehab is wonderful, but he knows that it’s not real life. and i kind of feel that way about college. i love college. it’s the happiest i’ve ever been. but in a few weeks, i’ll go back to my hometown, and that means i’ll have to live with my family and share the car and see the three friends who i still care about keeping up with and the handful i don’t but can’t figure out how to properly cut off. and it also means i’ll have to see my sister, which is something i’ve especially been dreading for the last few months. (we used to be best friends, and now we’re not. i don’t know if we ever will be again.) i’ll have to work a summer job or internship—neither of which i’ve secured yet—and practice cooking meals for next year when i live on my own, and try not tear out my hair as i interact with my parents on a daily basis.

university has been good to me, but it feels like a get-away. almost like a vacation, but with a ton of stress and pressure added. come summer, my reality will shift. and i still don’t know how to deal with that.

i still don’t know how to deal with a lot of things.