The Man Who Broke My World — and What Came After (Part II)

Today, I want to write about an “angel” I once met — a man I used to care about deeply.

This is a continuation of my previous essay.

The Man Who Broke My World — and Set My Life in Motion

To put it simply, after my relationship with him collapsed, everything in my life began to improve.

I suddenly found myself able to work twice as much as before. My diet and exercise habits improved, and my body felt noticeably better. My skin and hair changed in ways that surprised me. I became more social again, my days felt lighter, my plans for the future started to take shape, and — for some reason — I began to get asked out far more often than before.

He did not save me.

If anything, I lost that relationship in a way I never wanted.

And yet, I think he brought me back to my senses.

Still, my life hasn’t been easy.

I used to avoid going outside. I chose freelance work. I stayed quiet, almost invisible.

Then, around the time I lost that relationship, something shifted.

I started going out again without overthinking it.

In just a few months, my social world expanded dramatically.

Again — he didn’t do anything for me.

Objectively speaking, the way things ended was not kind.

And yet, without that ending, I wouldn’t be who I am now.

During all of this, I found myself thinking of The Alchemist — the novel — and its idea that once you begin moving toward what you truly want, the universe begins to respond.

But that response doesn’t always come in gentle forms.

Sometimes it delays you. Sometimes it breaks you.

And yet, even those moments are part of the path forward.

I was hurt when I lost him — more than I expected, especially given how little there actually was between us.

But now I think that loss itself was necessary.

When I first met him, I told him:

“I’m going to become the most well-known Japanese writer in Europe. Don’t forget me.”

One and a half years have passed, and I haven’t become that person yet.

But something is clearly different now.

In fact, the moment that relationship ended, I suddenly saw my direction as a writer with complete clarity.

More than the shock of what happened, that was what truly surprised me.

At the very least, I have published a novel in English on my own.

And I don’t think I would have crossed that first barrier without wanting him to read my work.

For someone like me — who had never even spoken English before going to Europe — writing fiction in a foreign language was an enormous wall.

The only reason I was able to shorten that distance was because of the intensity of that feeling.

He would probably laugh at what I’m about to say.

He seems like the kind of person who would dismiss it as irrational.

Still, I’ll say it anyway.

He seems like the kind of person who would call this “pink cloud thinking,” but still —

If there is such a thing as another life, then in the next one, I will take on the role of helping him.

There is no real benefit to being the one who plays the “angel.”

He might think meeting me was one of the worst things that happened to him. I doubt he sees it as something good.

But I can still think this way — because I’m on this side of it.

So if there is a next life, even if I become the one who thinks, “Meeting her was the worst,” I’ll still choose to take on that role.

I know myself well enough to make that decision.

Without him, I don’t think I would have been ready to take the kind of risks I’m taking now.

The truth is, I could see him again if I wanted to.

If I really tried, it would be possible.

But I won’t.

If we happen to end up in the same place one day, that’s just coincidence — something outside my control.

But choosing to see him is something else entirely.

Recently, while working, I found myself listening again to Paparazzi by Lady Gaga.

I used to listen to it a lot before I ever went to Europe, back when I didn’t understand English.

At the time, I thought it was just a song about a woman getting angry after being hurt.

But now I hear something else.

One of its themes, at least to me, is the human impulse to turn even love into something usable — something tied to fame, attention, and visibility.

And within that, there is an obsession with recording the other person.

At some point, I realized I might have been part of that structure myself.

Someone who watches — and turns herself into something worth watching.

If you asked me, “Do you want to see your angel again?”

I would probably pause, and then say yes.

But it’s not that simple.

When someone has that level of influence on your life, it goes beyond liking or disliking them.

It becomes less about them, and more about confirming something within yourself.

Even so, I don’t think I will go to see him.

In a material, results-driven world, it’s often considered the right thing to act, to seek closure, to resolve things directly.

But there are situations where that isn’t true.

When I made that declaration back then, it wasn’t a performance.

It was something I meant completely.

If I interpret it through the lens of The Alchemist, then what happened — even the loss — was part of the process of moving toward that future.

And in reality, after going through it, my circumstances changed so drastically that I almost feel like a different person.

So what comes next?

If I haven’t reached that goal yet, then whatever this “flow” is, it hasn’t ended.

And recently, I felt like I was being asked a question:

“Will you go to see him?”

It was just a feeling.

A quiet kind of certainty.

If I were someone who prioritized a more domestic kind of love, then going to see him might be the right choice.

But I’m not that kind of person.

What I said back then — that ambition — was completely genuine.

And that’s where my answer comes from.

So I won’t go.

If I see him by chance, I’ll accept that as something meaningful.

But whether or not I choose to act is what matters.

There are two things I’ve decided not to change.

First, I will remain enrolled in my university in Japan.

Second, I will go to Poland — one way or another.

What that looks like may change.

Depending on the choices I make this year, I might attend a language school for a shorter period instead of entering university right away, and apply to universities the following year.

But either way, going to Poland is not something I will change.

The timing may shift. But as long as I maintain my enrollment in Japan, any delay in my move to Europe won’t disadvantage me — if anything, it strengthens my position when applying.

The rest, I leave to whatever comes next.

To be honest, I didn’t want him to disappear from my life.

But now I understand why that couldn’t happen.

What feels like support from something unseen doesn’t always arrive in a gentle or comforting form.

Sometimes what looks like a negative event is actually the fastest way forward.

When we become too specific about how we want things to unfold, we risk missing that kind of support entirely.

We are, after all, limited to seeing the world in three dimensions.

It’s difficult to grasp things from any other perspective.

So instead of trying to define everything too rigidly,

I’ll keep moving forward — with a little more openness.