I wish I can suck out all these feelings with a hose and transfer them into a bucket.
Originally, I was going to say pour feelings into a bottle, but that seems too small of an image, not capturing the increasing excess that has hounded me for over a year.
Either way, a bottle or a bucket, I want to give it to her. A cure for both of us. She has always complained about not being able to feel, her emotions getting stuck somewhere up her neck, never reaching her tear ducts. She always gets frustrated in missing opportunities for a good cry as they come by so rare. Once, she was watching Kimi no Na wa on a plane and she stopped herself from crying as there were people around. When she told us this story, it didn’t cross my mind to ask her why she had to stop herself; it seemed natural that people don’t cry in front of other people. At that time, it didn’t also cross my mind that I wouldn’t have let people stop me from crying. Scratch that—-nobody could have stopped me from crying even if we all wanted to.
When I was a child, I watched this action film where they buried the lead actor under the ground with only his head sticking out. The villains were threatening to kill him by ramming his head with wheels of a 4×4 jeep. As the camera zooms in and out the protagonist and the antagonists’ faces, a flashback voice-over plays, reminding the lead not to cry no matter what the circumstance is, because however worse life can get, not crying is the only thing that keeps our dignity and makes us a Real Man. Those words I took to heart as a child, and maybe a lot of people as well—-did we all watch the same B-flick?—-, those words seem quite silly now. How could anyone keep a straight face buried in the ground? If that situation would not make you cry, it would have at least made you laugh.