Tokyo in September

I’m at the Shibuya station, waiting for my train going south and thinking about my psychiatrist told me that my medication is not working.

There are people who jump in front of the train everyday in Tokyo. They made a long wall along with the platform to prevent people from jumping onto the tracks. When a train arrives, the doors on the wall open. It’s silly, I don’t think the wall is high enough. I can easily climb over it if I want to die.

I’m standing next to a young woman. She is pretty, wearing a very short skirt. I’m discretely looking at her smooth legs. I don’t understand why she is wearing such a short skirt. If I insert my hand under her skirt, I could touch her underwear easily. I wonder what kind of underwear she is wearing, colour, material and smell. I imagine how it would feel like if I reach under her panties.

The announcement say that the next train will be late. There are more and more people coming to the platform. It’s unbearably hot. I start feeling anxiety. It’s not easy to live with bipolar illness, especially when my medication is not working. I have to find something else to think about.

I spot a nice-looking businessman, probably in his mid-thirties. He is wearing a cool linen suit. I fantasize about his body that is hiding under his clothes. I’m trying to move toward him to see his legs and between his legs. There are a lot of people in this station but somehow, I successfully got to close to him. I like his strong shoulders and arms.

Now I’m standing right next to him. I’m looking down and pretending to play with my cellphone but I’m really checking out his pants. I wish I could see him naked so I know how big his penis is. I want to bite his thighs and his ass.

Another announcement say that the next train will arrive in five minutes. That’s too long for me. Five minutes sounds forever when my medication is not working. When I’m high, I get horny.

I found a gorgeous woman. I was amazed by her big tits. They look so soft, I wish I could touch them and squeezes them. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I told you, doctor. I’m high! Why didn’t you believe me?

I suddenly remember that he gave me anti-anxiety medication... I can’t find it anywhere. I put my hand in all my pockets. I decide to go back to think about her tits. What kind of bra could hold those giant breasts?

I’m finally on the train. Nice air conditioning! I’m going south. I’m going home. Looking at those advertisement on this train, I feel like every poster has naked man and they are telling me dirty words that guys whisper to me in bed. There is a man on a little TV on the wall. He is a popular actor. I am looking at his muscles on his shoulders. I always love guy’s shoulders. I imagine that I’m in his arms, licking his neck and kissing his nipples.

I get off the train. It was only ten minus from Shibuya station but it felt like a long time. That happens when my medication is not working. I’m walking home. The sky is getting dark but this crazy heat is still here. It makes me think about sex. I stop at the convenience store near my place. I pick up the biggest bottle of vodka on the shelf. I don’t care how much it is. I pay for the bottle and start walking again. I’m sure as soon as I get home, I’ll start playing with my body.

There is a busy railway crossing on the way to my home. Trains are approaching from both directions. The train company installed four big blue lights above the crossing. Scientists believe that those blue lights save people from suicides on the rail. They work remarkably well but no one knows why. Two trains are just passing thought from opposite directions.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to see the blue lights because I don’t want to be saved. I cover my ears. The trains were gone. People have started walking again. I’m still standing.

In my mind, what do I see? What do I hear? I see someone is splashing black paint from the sky with my eyes closed. I can hear the paint dripping to the ground slowly with my ears covered. Jackson Pollock. My favourite painter who had bipolar illness.

I get home. I throw my vodka into the freezer. My friend, Kei calls. He says he is coming here soon. I collect Jackson Pollock’s posters. They are on every wall in my apartment. I like his black painting, his bipolar, his hopelessness.

As soon as Kei arrives, he gets in my freezer and opens the bottle of vodka without asking. Kei is my ‘yaritomo’ that means ‘sex friend’ in Japanese. He pushes me into my bed and pulls my jeans down. “Wow! What made you...” He is amazed. “What are you talking about?” I ask and touch myself and found it’s getting big and hard. Kei is exited and puts my penis in his mouth. “What made your penis so hard like this?” I moaned and said, “Because my medication is not working”.