picnic (from Kenshi Yonezu's diary)
I remember, late at night the day before I graduated high school and left my hometown, the wall clock in my room came to a complete stop. I was unsure if it ran out of battery or malfunctioned, but I remember laughing at how perfectly timed it was for an event that had never happened to me in 18 years of life. 1:25 AM. I do wonder if it's too obvious to think "some chapter of my life ended then."
In ancient rock 'n' roll, there was a dogma saying your lifespan was set at 27 years, which deceived antisocial youths. But I've reached that age and I'm continuing on as normal, so it appears that wrinkled era is over now. Like with Satoshi Yoshida's delinquent manga, you can trust a story that puts a clear end point on youth, but if it refuses to put away grandiose dreams, the reader will lose their way. You can't trap people in an illusion. Existing in a vaguely-tiring society, how will I end this story, and how will I pass things down? That's what I want to focus on.
Since the start of the year, I've had one lucky meeting after another with people I'd always wanted to meet; it feels like I'm going around collecting the payoffs to foreshadowing throughout my life. It's not like I'm doing a stamp rally or something, but I'm happy to see it appearing before me like a summary of my life thus far. It's like how in FFX, Tidus concludes his flashback in Zanarkand with a recognition of his origins, and the story that follows it finally begins - now that I've gotten followups on all these plot threads, I need to start on the part that comes next.