Times have felt a little heavy lately. I don’t like feeling heavy. I don’t think anybody does. But I don’t want to fake it; I’m allowing myself to feel the weight. It hasn’t crushed me, but a sort of melancholy comes in waves. I withstand it through gratitude, through friends, and through creating.

Writing has helped me so, so much.

To feel the highs and lows of life means we care. You and I care about something enough for it to move us deeply — we’re in the game — so dance with the waves.

Doing so makes life truly meaningful.

I’d been dating an incredible girl here in Japan for the past few months. I wasn’t necessarily looking for a relationship, but the universe crossed our paths and I welcomed the change.

The deeper we got, however, the more I realized that perhaps we’re looking for different experiences right now. This girl means so much to me, and I couldn’t go on knowing that I’ll likely be making a major life decision in a year where this would have to end. I felt selfish dragging her along with me just because I wanted to enjoy this moment without thinking ahead.

I ended the relationship; I think the decision’s the right one, but it hurt, I hurt, more than I ever have.

I hurt because she’s extraordinary, and I just want the best for her. I also miss her a lot. We’ll both be fine, I know that. I imagine she’s already thriving.

I tried with my decision to not only think of myself, believing that the deeper we would go into this the harder it would become to let go.

I’m not running from my future. I’m facing it by considering the inevitable.

I hope she sees that. There was so much love there and still is, and what she gave me is an experience in Japan that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

What caused me pain, what’s so hard about breaking up is how just through a decision, we become nothing more than a memory. You’re everything together, then nothing. It was hard to move past this notion at first; then I started to write about it.

She lives within my heart now, and that fucking sucks, but it’s the way things are, and that doesn’t have to weigh us down; there are things I want to tell her, things I want to say, and maybe someday I will, maybe.

But we both still walk this earth. We’re young. We have so much to learn. To see. To discover.

We both still gaze upon the same moon and sky and feel the warmth of the sun. We both think, and perhaps our memories entwine, and it could be that the universe has more up its sleeve, plotting our adventures, guiding our hearts.

I have faith that it does.

Something I’ll always remember is how she once explained that the Japanese are shy and instead of saying outrightly, I love you, they’d say something like, the moon shines so brightly tonight.

Japan lends itself to this sort of beautiful melancholy; the dim green train and the pouring rain and in that darkness which expands to the horizon, love.

That love has never left.

I hope that she can still feel that. I hope, perhaps, that she feels something, that when she looks at the moon, it shines a little brighter.