Space is dangerous.

It's really dangerous.

Really dangerous.

Space is dangerous. First of all, it's big.

It's beyond big. It's like super big. You can't use big here like you're saying, "About as big as 20 Tokyo Domes?"

This is way beyond that level. After all, it's infinite. Whoa! And you can't measure it in units. This is beyond tatami mats or hectares. It's infinite and it's super big. And supposedly, it's expanding. That's dangerous. It's expanding.

Since normal stuff like the Earth doesn't expand. It'd be a problem if your floor started growing. That'd make the trip to the bathroom longer. If the road to school grew longer, and a ten minute walk during my first year turned into a two hour bike ride during my third year, I'd want to cry. That's why Earth doesn't expand. It's willing to be reasonable. But space is dangerous. It doesn't give a damn about us. It expands like crazy. So much that we can't even measure the distance traveled by light from the farthest reaches. Way too dangerous.

I said it was infinite, but maybe it has limits. But if it has limits, "Then what's outside space?" And nobody knows the answer. Dangerous. Nobody knows that answer. That's incredible. And it's super cold. Around 1 kelvin. That would be -272c. Dangerous. Way too cold. You'll die faster than you can drive a nail through a banana. Scary. And there's absolutely nothing at all. Super empty. And super relaxed. It talks about hundreds of millions of years like it's nothing. Not even grade school students bring up hundreds of millions of years these day. In any case, space has mad horsepower. Since it can handle infinity. Our limited understanding of infinity comes through complex calculations involving integers. Or by solving for f or through a calculator. No sweat for space. Infinity is infinity. Incredible. Dangerous. Anyway freaks, you need to realize how dangerous space is. Stuff like Hubble that's gone out into space is amazing. //

I have seen three pictures of that man before. The first was from his childhood, I suppose you could say. The photo was taken around the age of ten. The child in the photo was surrounded by a crowd of women (I would assume they were his sisters and cousins)

next to a pond in a garden, standing in a hakama with a haphazard pattern of stripes with his head turned thirty degrees to the left and an ugly smile on his face. Ugly? However, the uncultivated people (that is, people who care not about beauty) look amused as though nothing was wrong and spew irresponsible flattery such as, "What a cute little boy." It wasn't that the boy's smile lacked any trace of the current definition of "cute" and was undeserving of such praise. However, any person who had undergone the slightest study of beauty would conclude the following after one glance: "What a hateful child."

and with a grumble of displeasure, toss aside the photographs as one would flick away a caterpillar. Indeed, the more I look at the child's smile, the more I am filled with this sensation of revulsion. This isn't a smile. This child is not smiling at all. Proven by the fact that the child is clenching his fists as he stands. Humans do not clench their fists when they smile. A monkey. This is a monkey's smile.
However, it only serves to add ugly wrinkles to his face. You might as well call him a wrinkly little boy. It is a curious thing how an expression in a photograph can be so filthy and irritating. I have never once seen such a mysterious expression on a child.

The expression on the second photo was another wonder of disfigurement. He is now a student. It isn't clear whether he's in high school or college, but in any case, he's a frighteningly handsome student. However, oddly enough, he does not look alive. Dressed in a uniform with a white handerchief [sic] sticking out of his breast pocket while sitting in a wicker chair with his legs crossed. And of course, he's smiling. This time, it isn't a wrinkled monkey smile. Rather, it's a crafty grin. However, it still feels different from a human smile. Perhaps the presence of blood or the sensation of lifelessness. It felt like something was missing. A smile light as a feather, rather than a bird, with the substance of a single sheet of white paper. In other words, every aspect of the smile felt fake. Conceit doesn't quite describe it. Neither does superficial. Neither does smirk. Vague obviously doesn't. However, upon closer examination, this handsome student still fills me
with a horrifying sense of revulsion. I have never once seen such a mysterious expression on a handsome young man.

The last picture is the strangest one. It is as if his age is impossible to deduce from the photo. His head is somewhat covered with white hair. He is in the corner of an extremely dirty room (the picture clearly shows that the wall has crumbled in three places) holding a small brazier with both hands. This time, he isn't smiling. There is no expression on his face. You could say that it looks like he died sitting there holding a brazier. Truly abominable. The picture of ill omen. That wasn't all that was strange about the picture. The picture was zoomed in on the face so I was able to closely examine the structure of his face. //

Anyway,

listen to my story.

It's a little off-topic, though.

The other day, I went to a nearby Yoshinoya. A Yoshinoya.

And there was a huge crowd, so I couldn't find a place to sit.

And after a closer look, I saw that the banner read something like 150 yen off. Seriously, are you morons? Idiots? Hey, losers. Don't suddenly show up at Yoshinoya because of a ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 150 yen price drop.

It's 150 yen. A hundred fifty yen. And there's even a family here. Four people having a family dinner at Yoshinoya, huh? Must be one hell of a special occasion. And then the dad's like, okay, I'm gonna make mine a jumbo. Just shoot me now. Hey, guys, I'll give you 150 yen, so scram. Yoshinoya is supposed to be a more brutal place. Nothing odd about getting in a fight with the person opposite you at one of those U-shaped tables.

Knife someone, or get knifed yourself. That's the atmosphere we want around here. Women and children should get lost. So I finally found a place to sit when the guy next to me ordered a large bowl with extra soup. And I snapped again. Now look here. Extra soup ain't the "in" thing no more, dumbass. Don't come in here looking like you're all that and ordering no extra soup. I want to know if you really want that extra soup. Put you on the rack. For a whole hour.

Yeah. You probably just ordered that for the hell of it. As a regular of Yoshinoya, I can tell you that the current fad is extra onions. That's the thing. A large bowl with egg. Extra onions. That's how we roll. If you just order extra onions, you get more onions. Which means you get less beef. So, get extra onions and an egg, and you're set. But once you've ordered it, your name will be on their list. A double-edged sword. Can't recommend this to an amateur. //

"You know, the second you were born, you tried to get back in."
My mother told me this half jokingly.
I don't believe it was a joke.
There's no way that I'd remember, but if I was even a little like the way I am now, the instant I was born, I'd probably have grabbed my umbilical cord and hanged myself by my neck. I'd probably have planned to commit suicide by drowning myself in my first baby bath.
I'd probably have planned to commit suicide by jumping out my crib. I wanted to die from the moment I was born. The secret to my success is now clear.
Anyhow, I can forgive my mom for telling me what she did, but there was one more true story she told me that was a bit much.
"The obstetrician and the nurse who brought you out committed double suicide by driving their car into the Tsurumi river after their affair ended."
Mom, it wasn't necessary to tell me that, don't you think? //