Thinking about it now, there are only about two things that I regret.
One is that I most likely won't be able to give you your birthday present.
Another is that the clothes I wanted to show you have gone to waste.
Another is that I must say goodbye to you.
Ah, this would be the third one.
Oh well.
Because of you, I've got to do a major clean-up of my room,
even though I don't have much time. Look what you've done to me.
But the winter is getting stronger, and if you were to bring up that issue,
I'll definitely cry next time, so won't you please wait until spring?
No, wait, with the spring weather enveloping us,
I guess even you would find it hard to bring up,
so let's leave it until summer. I can then cover up my tears with sweats.
But I don't like it when it's hot, so let's leave it until autumn.
I just wanted to try saying that.
Within the 36 months I spent with you,
half my life's worth of happiness, and a whole life's worth of regret
have taken root, grown larger, and made these white-spotted flowers bloom.
Was it only me?
The 36 months I lived with you equal my whole life's
worth of happiness. The kind of good fortune that only ever comes once.
That fact won't ever change. I'll throw it all away tomorrow,
so don't say anything, just nod your head and listen to what I have to say for now.
It's strange how when the actual moment comes, it's not so easy to cry
I'm ashamed of myself for thinking that in the worst case scenario, I'd just guilt trip you with tears.
My heart's capacity for sadness was surpassed,
and before I could cry, I blurted out: "Quit your bullshit."
I know. I'm the one who should be doing that.
Your silly look when you sleep. The way you're always looking for the other sock.
How I never say: "Thank you." The flower bouquets you'd give me sometimes.
Isn't that how we've gone through everything, up to this point?
Haven't we walked all this way together?
I'd never get sick of hearing the same story, no matter how many times you tell me.
Days going by as bland as tap water; a dull love song, like flat soda—
I don't mind it, even when it's like a piece of chewing gum that's lost all flavors.
If I must throw it away, I might as well just swallow it. Or so I thought.
Thinking about it now, there are only about two things that I regret.
One is that I most likely won't be able to give you your birthday present.
Another is that the clothes I wanted to show you have gone to waste.
Oh, and also,
the fact that we most likely won't be able to see each other anymore, even as friends.
The fact that I meant surprisingly so little to you. The fact that there are still so many things
I want to tell you and things I want you to tell me.
But if I were to summarize them all, then it'd come down to just one thing:
I'm still in love with you.
The three years' worth of memories you left me with—
my whole life's worth of happiness, my whole life's worth of happiness.
Here I am, trying to fight it, thinking there's hope if there's a "see you again."
Such is what you gave me. It's not enough, no matter how many times I say it.
It was my whole life's worth of happiness. Without a doubt, I was most fortunate.
I'm not used to saying it, and there won't be a "see you again,"
but at the very end, I'm going to tell you: "Thank you,"
so I hope you will smile, too.
Image - Teruha
Music - risou
If There's a "See You Again"
I said it, so that things won't get too depressing. Superficial goodbyes
would all end up being meaningless.
So then, see you again.
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