Four months. It has been a little over four months that I've been in Japan, and it both feels and doesn't feel that way. So much has changed, and yet it feels as though time flew right on by. Like I've been stuck in some sort of alternate reality, segregated from what I know and the regular flow of events, leaving me time to think and do what I will.
I came to Japan for three months when I was only seventeen. I had many amazing experiences that really helped me recognize and shape my sense of self. Since I entered college, in the back of my mind I always entertained the idea that I would return some day for a longer duration of time. I tried to keep up with the language while balancing my college life, and I even revisited for three weeks last winter. Revisiting was lots of fun, especially since I got to revisit with the very friends I made in Japan and had not seen in person for three years. It is weird how one experience can lastingly bring people together.
As I was finishing my undergraduate studies, it felt more and more as if studying abroad was not an option. When application deadlines for Waseda Univeristy in Tokyo came around, I decided to try and apply without expecting to be accepted to the program due to its competitive nature.
But, as I've learned, I was shooting myself down beforehand. I got into the program, received scholarships and grants, and everything was good to go. I was perfectly willing at the time to go into a little debt to go abroad and finish a degree that would boost my career if I chose to work in Japan.
So I came to Tokyo and did everything I was supposed to. I made new friends, tried different things, went on many expenditures, spoke lots of Japanese, attended my classes, went to parties, drank, socialized, etc. It was very easy for me to slip into a routine, though that very routine was only a distraction. I thought that this was good, since I tend to think about things too much, but I had to eventually face reality.
I came here not only to study but to find out more about myself, and I certainly did, though it was not at all what I was expecting. I realized Japan was not my dream anymore. For so many years I held it in my heart as something I really wanted, something that I had to do. I started changing once I got into college (for the better, in my opinion), but it left me feeling ambivalent towards who I was anymore. I clung to this phantom idea of myself - a girl who really wanted to live and work in Japan someday - because it was familiar, because it was something I had accepted and adopted into a mindset.
Don't get me wrong, Japan is a fun place to be, and for many people it is a dream, I think. It is just not mine anymore. I would like to visit again, but to live here? I know the language well enough to get by, I'm comfortable going places by myself, have seen and learned a lot. For now I feel entirely correct in making the decision to come home after this semester, to find a new dream's horizon to chase after. If when I reach that horizon I find nothing but undesirable fluff anymore, well, then the journey was worth it. I can no longer disregard how dynamic human nature can be.
I once thought to myself, If I keep riding the waves as they come, will I eventually be lost at sea? And now I answer myself that I can try and steer myself in whatever direction, fight or take with the waves, but in the end its a combination of both that gets me where I need to be.
