if there were no more beds in this world

I ponder where I stand with my friends. Sometimes I feel I'm standing on grounds not very firm. Then I think about what my friends do for me, and I can think of many things, even the littlest things like saving me a seat at the lunch table, that counts too. Then I think about how I ought to cook a big dinner for them. It would set everything right, for I don't know how to cook. It would say a lot if I were to cook. It would say even more (or at least surprise) if the food were delicious.

Somebody says I'm too passive, and that my way of going about things is wrong. If I were to meet another passive person... let's concretize this image... perhaps a person just like me... no, maybe like me in the way she talks, the way she responds to questions... And if she were to be labeled passive... I would be very nice to her. I would listen to her intently if she had something to say. I would help her get the things she wants but isn't able to get for herself. And most importantly, I would not label her passive. This is the way she chooses to go about things, and you see, she is happy. Yes. A world revolves around her and every other minute she is able to close her eyes for a split second and know that she has everything. What most people don't know is that when she needs to step up and be 'aggressive' she can. I trust that she can. I know that she can. She is calm. She listens to me. She is insightful. Her words are uplifting, and I see a lot of me in her. This is why I like being with her. I know she can look after of me.

Now back to me. I remember vividly that night, almost ten years ago, lying on the bed with Yuki in that hotel room, early evening, sun not completely set, window open, train station across the street, and that tall billboard for Terminal Hotel. I couldn't breathe. I never had a problem crying before my girlfriend for she was my girlfriend and there was nothing to hide. But it's easy to say 'hide nothing, be honest' when it's all retrospective now, and looking back, I cried as though my stomach was cut from me and my arms had no power to gather back my insides. This is not to paint an ugly picture of myself, but to tell you just how desperate I was feeling, and how much I hated myself for missing a part of my body, the part of my body that could have relieved me from saying things like I want to be strong. Yuki stayed with me the whole time. She was really something special.