For my birthday, Mom and Dad gave me five lovely notebooks and letter sets. Ako gave me a sand-glass. Hiroki gave me a blod-tipped ballpoint pen with four colors. He said I shouldn't cry any more that I'm 17. Kentaro gave me a book titled Shiroi hito, Kiiroi hito (White People, Yellow People) written by Shusaku Endo.
My Wishes on Becoming 17 Years Old
I want to go to a bookstore and a record shot. It's difficult even in my wheelchair. I can't move my hands the way I want to, and I often make mistakes operating it.
If I could go to a bookstore, I'd buy Gone with the Wind and Anya Koro (A Dark Knight's Passing) by Naoya Shiga.
If I could go to a record shop, I'd buy an LP of Paul Mauriat's music.
I tumbled in the bathroom. I couldn't stay balanced on tiptoe (I may no longer be able to do that) and I fell down on my bottom with a thud. I wasn't hurt but I was scared. Yes, I'm scared.
I wonder if my disease can heal naturally? I'm now 17. I wonder how many more years I'll have to fight against it until God forgives me . . . I can't imagine myself at the same age as Mom is now (42). I couldn't imagine becoming a second grader at Higashi High, and now I'm afraid I may not be able to live till I'm 42. But I want to still be alive at that age!