In the year leading up to my graduation, I caught up on many movies and anime, worked as a tutor, studied Japanese, read a pile of books I had always wanted to read, and taught myself some frontend development and programming.

Occasionally, I would go for night runs, enjoying the pleasure of a shower after being drenched in sweat. As I listened to music and ran slowly, I felt as if the world belonged to me. I felt I could live on in this world with myself.

During that time, I read One Hundred Years of Solitude twice more. Every time I reached the final word, I would suddenly feel as if I were being swallowed by loneliness. The world would lose its sound, leaving only me behind.

It turned out that the reason I was so busy was simply because I was too lonely. That is why I always felt a sense of emptiness at the end of a book or the conclusion of an anime. In reality, that was a void I had carried all along.

They did not keep me away from loneliness; they only made me unable to perceive that hole. I was afraid of that hole, desperately searching for things to fill it, searching for things to cover it up. I was afraid it would swallow me, and I was also afraid of others discovering my fear of it.

Yet it is bottomless, letting in no light, and everything I throw into it disappears without a sound. I thought, perhaps it would take something heavier than the world itself to fill it.

But later, a single "I love you" caused it to overflow, allowing me to clearly feel my own completeness for the first time. And so, I measured the weight of this world.