To me, it was clear proof of the existence of supersymmetry, the idea that every particle has a partner. She was mine.
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Suddenly I had to laugh. It was like realising you definitely need to projectile vomit when you thought you had it under control in some imprisoning form of public space.
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Its hard to explain how an infatuation actually starts. Its a state so all-encompassing that its almost impossible to remember how it felt to live inside your own head before it began. Everything that precedes it becomes a pathway that was always leading there. Time before is valuable only as a resource with which to create a persona, to bind the object of the infatuation closer. I had given my (partially fabricated) past life to Mizuko to make a story that in the end never got told. Or not by her. It is also hard to explain the intensity of the infatuation itself. There is rarely an explanation that seems reasonable to anyone but you. Unless youre part of a cult or viral phenomenon, so that when you weep outside the object of your infatuations hotel room, you do so in the company of millions.
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“I went back to my room and spent all night contemplating whether it was possible in life not to be constantly let down. If it could ever be worth pinning your happiness to another person, when all other people ever seemed to do was disappear.”
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