As for the earthquake.. I was at Tokyo Disneyland

Of course it started as a beautiful perfect sunny day. Don't the worst days always start that way?

A few hours later and we were huddled with thousands of other people, waiting through the aftershocks, waiting to know if we were going home, and waiting through the rain that suddenly started to fall.

The line just to go the restrooms an hour after the earthquake was longer than the lines had been for most of the rides earlier that day.

We weren't going home. The train lines were stopped and there was no way back to Tokyo other than a 6 hour walk. So we wore plastic bags to keep the warmth in, barricaded ourselves with cardboard to keep the zero degrees wind out, and ate free cookies and chocolate because it was the only food we could get.

After 8 hours outside, the buildings were finally determined to be safe enough for us to shelter in for the rest of the night. We slept, (or tried to, as every aftershock had my heart pounding and my eyes on the exits) on cardboard in a theatre that would usually show a 3D movie about Michael Jackson and aliens, our own reality seemed more surreal somehow.

At 6am we were herded into buses back to Tokyo, stepping over the cracks in the carpark cement. "Ki o tsukete" the staff said in parting "be careful".

A week and a bit later I'm still in Japan but I'm back in Nagoya. The aftershocks that continued to reach me for days after left me constantly terrified, even though I logically knew they posed no threat to me. I made an evacuation bag anyway. I made plans with a teacher who lives in the same building as me in case we had to run. I'm not scared of the nuclear plant, though I am worried about the students I know who have moved to Tokyo. I had already booked my flight back to Australia in April before all of this happened and I'll be leaving Japan 16 days from now. I'm not running, I'm just returning. But it sure doesn't feel that way sometimes.

Falling.

Sometimes I feel like I'm standing on the edge, and if I were to linger for much longer I'd fall in head first. Whether it's head first into anxiety, depression or even love I'm always clinging onto that edge. I've fallen before. I've fallen a lot of times for a lot of reasons and all of them resulted in my heart feeling like it had been ripped from my chest. Love should be good and it should be happy and depression should be sad but sometimes the feelings melt into one another, where love makes me depressed and depression makes me lovesick. And that's why I avoid your eyes and keep my head bowed or settled somewhere else while we speak. I don't want to fall because although you seem perfect and we would be perfect it still wouldn't be enough, and I don't want that again. I don't want to fall for the wrong reason.

Snow snow snow

I wish it snowed everyday. One day was not nearly enough. Even though it made trains stop and feet freeze, it never stops feeling magical for me :)

Looking up.

I went to church today. I don't usually go to church, and I'm not a Christian so this was a significant event for me. My friend invited me to her church's Christmas party and there was a service before the party which was mainly playing Christmas games and singing Christmas songs. I don't know how I feel about religion. It's always been something that sat kinda strangely with me. I wasn't raised religious, but I wasn't raised to be against religion either.

I've always believed in God (or something) and as a child and a teenager and on a few occasions as an adult I've prayed. When I was a kid I asked for stupid things, then as a teenager during that horrible shit time I prayed just for strength to get me through it, and as an adult I prayed for guidance because I felt so lost. I don't really know why I did it, I didn't really expect anything magical to happen. But for some reason, getting down on my knees and putting my head on my bed (cliche I know, but it *feels* right) and speaking out loud, even if I was talking to myself more than to God, I always felt like a weight was lifted and I could start to see more clearly. Usually, the second I spoke, I was in tears and just repeating "Help me, help me, what should I do? I can't do this" into my bed covers until my body was tired and I'd just sit there in silence for awhile. Eventually I'd sit back, wipe my eyes and go back to whatever I was doing before, feeling like I'd at least emptied my heart of whatever emotions had been building up in there.

At the service today people were making speeches about their own personal experiences with God and learning Christianity, because most Japanese people aren't Christian but find it later in life. Everything was in Japanese and English, so I could understand what was going on. I found myself tearing up a couple of times and I wondered why. I felt bad that I was there and I wasn't a Christian and that when they talked about Jesus and the bible a little part of me wanted to roll my eyes. But when they talked about their struggles and how they prayed for an answer, I knew how that felt and I understood their pain. So it made me wonder, is this something I should do? I feel like I could never really fully embrace Christianity, and I'd feel like an impostor if I tried.

Honestly I don't even know who I'm praying to when I'm praying. I call it God because that's what we all learn. But I don't know if it's a Christian God or if it's just the universe and fate and destiny and luck that I'm praying to. Religion is such a touchy topic, it's just too difficult to talk to people about without someone getting offended at some point so usually I just keep my thoughts to myself about it. I know I'm not the only person who prays without knowing who they're praying to though. Least we're all in that together then right?

Feel the swing.

Why do I always feel like I have more to hide than I have to say? I'm talking at walls and hoping they aren't listening. I'm so tired of compartmentalising my life. For so long I've kept secrets, not even interesting secrets, but secrets nonetheless. My real life friends don't know about my blog and sometimes I wonder if I'll ever tell them, not that it really matters any more. Although the line that separates "real life friends" and "internet friends" has become increasingly blurred over the last year or two. And then, the people who do know I have a blog don't read it anyway so what's the point in hiding it?

I guess before it was because I felt lame, and I needed an outlet that was just for me and this crafty thing I was trying to do. And then it became something else, just an outlet. And sometimes it's nice to just have a space that is for you and not have to worry about anyone else because you can do with it what you want and post emo thoughts and pretend arty pictures and indulge yourself with comments from super lovely people. But somewhere along the way I lost it and I stopped posting and people stopped reading and commenting and it felt lonely and bare again.

I remember when I was in high school. I went through a super horrible shit time and my head just wasn't right like it should have been. I remember when I was freaking out I used to crawl under my computer desk and just sit there, my back against the wall and my knees against my chest. I still don't really know why it made me feel better but somehow being in a small space felt safe and comforting even though I was hiding more from myself than from anything else. Sometimes now I feel like I need that small space, I need something to wrap around me and close me in and bring me back to my senses. I don't care if it's a desk or a blanket or the arms of another person. I just need my spot back.