Holy shit, this flight is showing Neko Samurai. My whole life just lit up a little brighter.

LAX is still awful, and now at a significant distance from me. I fully bawled for about three seconds when the wheels left the runway.
Before I go on, let me toot the saddest horn in my personal psychological symphony and say that I love the way I cry when a life presents something crushing. I completely collapse for
one-onethousand
two-onethousand
three-onethousand
four-onethousand
five-onethousand
at which point the waterworks shut off like a faucet, and I move on. This happens in small, unpredictable bursts, but it makes dealing with issues feel managable since I know that when I start crying it’ll stop quickly. I give myself total permission to become a puddle, then snap back to being a semi-person again. My humanity becomes binary: functioning human on, functioning human off, repeat until tired or tired of functioning-human-off setting (usually followed by food). It’s genuine, mentally healthy, and, frankly, pretty fucking convenient. So. *toot*

Anyway, I’ve been crying off and on all week: sitting at home watching cartoons, eating (crying while eating might actually be the accomplishment for which aforementioned horn was made for. It’s harder than it sounds), saying goodbye to just about anyone (especially my ESL students, a few of whom caught me on camera breaking down while thanking them for giving me an amazing first experience as a teacher with my very own classroom, and I am not excited about seeing that hit Facebook sometime soon), my family, my friends (especially my dojo family), the list is a predictable, beautiful representation of the people I’ve been lucky enough to be surrounded by until I chose to book it halfway around the globe for a year to have an adventure in making mistakes and feeling lost while overdosing on ramen (reimen now?). I only feel regret when I think of who I’m leaving behind, and I get totally selfish and fantasize about stuffing my luggage full of person-I-love-and-suddenly-can’t-live-without in a heartbeat until the inevitable (and suddenly unfunny) sound of breaking bones that would inevitably result when said luggage was elegantly launched off a cart and onto the tarmac. I think that’s enough of that.

Meanwhile, I have the entire row on this flight to myself, which is fortune I didn’t dare wish for, and UGH OMG the duty-free cart just went by and I choked a little on the perfume. Bleh. This row is probably larger than my apartment in Japan. I should relish it while I have the chance.