Fifteen minutes later...
I — the trembling, stuttering Kaede — now find myself sitting on a small swing in a little park just a few steps away from my house. I know perfectly well that my destination was the market, but I thought it was wiser to take refuge here after accomplishing something big: leaving the house without running into anyone.
I like this place. The perfect temperature of the air blends with the beauty of the sky, creating a habitat that feels just right for me. Speaking of the infinity above our heads, sometimes I imagine how wonderful it would be to have the ability to fly — to look at the whole world from above without the slightest worry.
If I remember correctly, there is a story that tells of the sky being used as a means of escape.
I'm talking about the story of Daedalus and Icarus: the escape of a father and son from an impregnable labyrinth. The parent's ingenuity and determination in creating wings held together only by wax, combined with the exuberance of a young boy, led to an unexpected tragedy.
"Do not fly too high, or your wings will melt," the father said, trying to protect his most precious treasure.
But the boy was blinded by the freedom he felt while soaring through the sky.
The father's words melted away like Icarus's wings, and deprived of his freedom, he could do nothing but fall into the prison of the sea.
He had dared too much... freedom or arrogance?
I think he was simply too fascinated by a sensation he had never felt before. I mean, he was literally flying! Who wouldn't be excited by a possibility like that? The principle is very simple: when something good happens to us, it leaves a deep mark on us — both in the moment and in the long term. Of course, the same can happen with negative events.
At that moment, young Icarus represented the human will to surpass one's own boundaries, to go beyond the limits imposed on us. I am not like him: I have no intention of crossing lines I shouldn't cross. I only want a peaceful, quiet life — nothing more.
If I have time, I should look into this more. Of course I have time — I never have anything to do. I should check at the library to see if I can find something about it.
I take a deep breath. Calm reigns here, and a flood of memories flows through me: as a child, I loved this place and had fun here, even though I wasn't able to communicate with others. I've been on this swing so many times that I don't think it can even be represented as a number anymore.
If only I didn't have this terrible insecurity... then maybe — and I say maybe — I could have become a decent person. I truly don't know when it came into play. I mean, I've been shy since I was little — everyone in my family knows that — and yet I have no idea where this trait really came from.
I find myself wondering whether something like "personality" really exists. When we are born, we should be empty, without any kind of default setting: the way we are should be shaped by everything we see. And yet... is there really something that could have made me like this? I don't think I had any negative experiences before it appeared.
Over time, my shyness only grew worse, and mixed with my insecurity, it started to generate something completely different. I began to truly fear other people's thoughts — how did I even get to this point? When? When did I change? When did I become the useless being I am now?
Ahhh! I have to stop thinking about these things. I need to focus on reality. If I don't come back with the groceries, Mom will throw her slippers at me.
"Hey, you."
I don't hear it. I'm too lost in my thoughts and inner struggles to catch the faint call of the world.
"Girl? Can you hear me?"
Nothing. How could I hear it? The mind is far too complex a construct to be pierced by such weak words. Nothing can free me — nothing at all.
Then a sudden touch on my left shoulder brings me back to reality.
Never mind that.
I look up without caring who I might find in front of me. It could be anyone: a boy, an adult, an elderly person, or some criminal who wants to steal all my money — not that I have any. I'm so useless I'd probably even bankrupt a thief.
Children?! What are they doing here?!
"Oh, you heard me. Could you get off the swing, please? My friend and I would like to play on it."
Ah. That's all. And what was I even worrying about? I'm in a park — of course there are children who want to play here. I'm getting a bit too old for this park anyway... but still!
You just have to answer them. That's all.
"Y-yes. I-I'll get off right away."
"Thanks!"
I get off the swing. Immediately, the two children position themselves on their rides. They're both smiling and having fun even before they start. I wish I could do that too.
I had gotten through the interaction — but not my clumsiness. As I walk away, I end up tangling my feet and almost fall. By some divine miracle I keep my balance with the help of the rest of my body.
People learn how to walk in their first years of life and keep doing it for decades; I must have skipped that phase. So much so that I almost fell flat on my face. And yet I always pay attention to how I walk — I wouldn't want to be called a penguin.
I look around to see if anyone noticed, and of course I see the children staring at me with their big eyes. They're not laughing, but they look close to it.
How embarrassing.
I turn away immediately, abandoning their gazes. I wish I could stop thinking about it, but I can't — it's already etched into me, at least for a few days.
Toward the park exit. And beyond.
Now that I think about it, I don't even really know what I'm supposed to buy. Yes, the instructions are written on the little piece of paper I was given, but I'd like to understand concretely what food I'm supposed to get — hopefully something I like.
I take out the list and start reading it: if there are any awful foods on it, I'm in for lunches and dinners of pure disgust.
"Apples, bananas, and strawberries," I murmur to myself.
Wait... is it all fruit?! Am I risking a full-blown trauma over some lousy fruit?! Not that it's bad... but it's not worth the effort!
The relief a fruit salad can give doesn't even come close to the feeling you get after a full code-red experience.
This only confirms my theory: Mom sent me here just to get me some fresh air. She doesn't really need these things. And even if she did, they're not so urgent that she had to send me to the market.
I understand her choice. She wants to change the situation, to let me have some interaction with other people — actually, she wants to prepare me to live in the world.
A parent can only suffer when faced with something like this. Their child has no friends, no one to talk to, no one to have fun with, no one to vent to... I've never had any of that.
I've always told her that I do exchange a few words with my classmates, that I'm not completely mute — and in a way that's true. The only thing that bothers me is that I don't know if you can really call them conversations: they're short and they lack depth.
I'm really stupid: I keep thinking only about Mom, but I should reflect on what Dad feels too. He isn't as direct as his wife — he's very calm and rarely gets angry with me. If I ever have to learn how to drive, I think I'll ask him to help me practice.
I'm sure it bothers him too that I don't have friends — I'm absolutely sure of it. He doesn't say it clearly, but... he always tries to encourage me to join some group activity, like after-school stuff.
I'd like to make him happy, but it's too hard for me. I have no interest in those activities, and I'd feel judged by every other member of that potential group. Take any sport, for example. Imagine me having to run through a line of cones while dribbling a soccer ball: I'd never manage it — not only because I'm terrible at it, but because the anxiety of feeling other people's eyes on me would drive me insane.
TUMP!!
"Ow!"
I touch my forehead at lightning speed.
"Damn it, Wall Maria — that hurts!"
What just happened? I just hit my head on a pole. This is what happens when you're too focused on your own thoughts, I guess — how can someone be this clumsy?
It hurts so bad... I hate getting hurt. And I'm very sensitive to the sight of blood, but it doesn't look like that's the case — I just hit myself really hard.
Thank goodness nobody saw that. Why did it have to happen right now? I'm just a few steps away from the market entrance. And yet it's strange — how is there no one around? It should be crowded. Does nobody feel like going out today? Well... I mean, it's Sunday. If it were up to me, I'd have stayed home all day.
Alright. Five minutes to recover and then I go in. Come on, you can do this, Kaede. You can't keep making such a big deal out of everything. Calm down. Stay cool.