Tokyo Ueno Station

But then what of me remains here?

A sense of tiredness.

I was always tired.

There was never a time I was not tired.

Not when life had its claws in me, and not when I escaped from it.

I did not live with intent, I only lived.

It wasn’t that I wanted to die; it was just that I was tired of trying.

I do not think I was especially ugly, but I never had the kind of looks that would have attracted anyone’s attention