It’s been almost half a year since i went backpacking.

Being born into a country with a conscription army, I was living on borrowed time, too many things to do, too little time.

Tokyo was surreal, I blended in effortlessly ( well I’m Asian after all..)

So basically I watched X JAPAN live, which was a real dream come true, after all it was just like yesterday where i chanced upon an old WEEKEND video on YouTube, and back then the videos were grainy as hell, but yet through this sandy bits i saw through immense talent, and therefore i was hooked. I was forbidden to listen to them by my then girlfriend ( who still means the world to me, though we’ve never talked ever since ) but oh fuck Yoshiki’s a musical genius.

Anyways I stopped over at Tokyo dome, It was a humbling experience, the city itself smelt of the countless concerts it had held before, and in this city something different happened to me.

Prior to my stopover at the Tokyo dome city, Japan was a breath of fresh air. Everyone seemed well to do, very well cultured, well dressed, and they had a confident aura emitting from their flesh, a far cry from Singapore, where there practically is no national identity. Sadly, the sun was blazing like an inferno, and my typical Singaporean traits showed badly, as I complained and swore in a mixture of Singlish and Hokkien.

It was at the Tokyo dome complex itself, where i took a breather, sat down and admired the high school students in their traditional attire, where an elderly man attracted my attention. He was haggard, disheveled. He was in his 40’s, his hair was long and oily. His clothes were torn and tattered, he had no footwear. He suffered from Polio. In the scorching Summer sun he limped about from litterbin to litterbin, looking meticulously for something. I observed from a distance, wondering what he was up to.

He dug up a half eaten bento set. In fact the one i had thrown away just minutes before. I bought it at the convenience store for around 2USD, he dug up my used chopsticks and uttered a silent prayer, smiled, and began tucking in.

Immediately I froze, I was blalantly ashamed of myself. In front of me was a man who’s living despite the odds, and there I was, I threw away this bento set because i was looking forward to a better dinner. I approached him, and with my limited vocab of Japanese I tried to strike a conversation.

Despite his situation, he spoke with confidence, and courtesy, I was dully impressed with him. He spoke no English, I spoke little Japanese, all i could do was to ask him to wait for me.

I ran to the merchandise store, got him a new T-shirt, and a ricebowl from Yoshinoya. He thanked me in handsigns, I gave him a hug. He gave me a little Buddhist amulet, with some Chinese words written on it. I could read Chinese, and “PEACE” spelt out in flawless calligraphy.

It was this fateful day in Tokyo dome where i learnt to be happy, or rather content with whatever I have. It also forced me to move out of the gallows, slowly and come to peace with what had unfolded in my life the past few years.

I couldn’t let go of this girl, she was special, I probably never will let go, but at least now I’m more at peace. Perhaps one day she’d know she meant the world to me, even til now. Logic tells me that someone deserves her more then I ever would, my heart disagrees, but penultimately logic’s right. She deserves the best.

I should learn from that humble homeless dude. I have to put things down and find inner peace, or these regrets would cause blistering malaises in my mind, regrets which I would probably never fogive myself for having.

On an unrelated side note, Happy Chinese New Year!