I was born and raised in Nagoya and have lived in Nagoya for quite a long time. I have only been away from Nagoya for about four years when I attended university and one year spent as a company employee in Tokyo.
I had decided to go to college in a city far away from Nagoya, preferably in Tokyo, to break away from my disappointing past up until high school, and I remember how happy I was when I managed to get into a college in the Kanto area, though not in Tokyo.
The town where the university was located was the prefectural capital, but it was a small city of about 300,000 people, and to be honest, it was quite rural.
However, the people who lived there seemed to think it was an urban area, and I suffered a lot from the gap between the two. Even though Nagoya tends to be treated as a rural city by Tokyo and Osaka, it is still a city with a big name.
I thought I could go to Tokyo by train in about an hour because it is in the Kanto region, and I thought I could easily go there everyday to have fun, but I later found out that it actually takes about an hour and a half by express train (for the entrance examination). (When I took the entrance exam, I had a relative drive me there, so I didn’t realize it).
I was really disappointed when I found out that it was not just a casual trip, but a short trip.
In retrospect, I should have looked around and enjoyed the city more, but at the time I was a dreamy child who dreamed of a rosy future as a novelist, and as I looked at the countryside spread out in front of my apartment, I felt discouraged. As I looked at the landscape, it took little time for my disappointment to turn to disappointment and then to despair.
Simply put, I was homesick. I suddenly missed Nagoya and my parents’ home, which I had wanted to get away from so much. For the first time, I had some sense of what it meant to be home (even though it was only for a month).
After three days, I was treated like an unwelcome guest, and finally told to go back to my apartment.
On the way back to the apartment, I felt so refreshed that I no longer had to see my mother in a bad mood, and I even said to myself, “I now understand the true meaning of the phrase, “Home is a long way away.
However, when I returned to my apartment, within three days I felt homesick again. This time, I felt exactly the same way: “Living alone is like living at home.
But I understand homesickness. But what is this feeling I am feeling now, and why is it happening?
Other classmates are enjoying returning home, enjoying living alone, and in between, they are enjoying themselves to the fullest by traveling alone in moderation.
I am always longing for somewhere other than here, but when I finally get there, I miss the place I left and abandoned by myself. However, I cannot go back, I cannot stay in the place I am now for too long. I began to wonder in earnest if I was the only person in the world who tended to have such strange feelings.
And this was not only about my hometown and living alone, but also about everything else that followed. Like with my favorite part-time job or my first company, I would suddenly and unexpectedly quit, and even my deepest friendships would suddenly and unilaterally cut off. And then, without telling anyone, I suddenly moved out. It is a very natural feeling to do such things. As a result, I have caused anger and disappointment among many people.
If I only had the bohemian temperament, I might have become a cool wanderer like Snufkin, but I was a miserable bohemian with the word “sentimental” attached to my head.
And so I ended up where I am now, living in an apartment in my hometown, close to my parents’ house (a fifteen-minute drive). Perhaps this is the realistic drop-off point for a man who has developed a sentimental bohemian temperament, and who is also a lonely man.
See you soon.
