Aloneness*

Don’t you get overly mindful of the other person when you try to work with them? Like, “I wonder how this person will feel if I say this.” Or like, “This guy and that guy have different aims, so I’m going to ask this guy to do this and that guy to do that.” Guesswork, guesswork; every day is about guessing how the other person feels and being considerate of them. And yet, you end up with an amalgamation of each party’s compromise. The more people are involved, the more they act polite, and both the good and the bad get lost, making the result a fucking boring one. That’s why I want to do things on my own. I give in so quickly. For the sake of anyone, younger or older. Even for a stranger that exists inside a version of myself that I made up. I sometimes wonder, “Don’t I have my own opinions?” But it’s not that I don’t. No, I guess I actually don’t. See? I gave in again. I can’t even speak for myself because I hold back. That’s why I feel like I like being alone. 

I run an artbook store that’s about the size of six tatami mats in a corner of Tokyo. Quietly. Alone. I say I do it by myself, but some people help me out from time to time. I can do what I do because of the support of many people. A lot of people visit my store, thankfully. Strictly speaking, I don’t do it alone, but I act like it.