When it comes to this point (currently writing this a few days before the show), I find myself scrolling three months back in my camera roll, and I come to the realization that we’ve come a very long way. Looking through those photos feels almost surreal. From being completely unsure of what I was doing, questioning whether I even belonged here, to somehow standing where I am now, “acting” like someone who could be called a 創作者. Even now, that title feels strange to me. Maybe because I still see myself as the same person I was at the beginning of this journey, just someone trying their best and figuring things out one step at a time.
What feels even harder to believe is that all of this will end in a single day. Months of preparation, countless conversations, mistakes, revisions, moments of frustration, laughter, and growth, all condensed into a few hours. It almost feels unfair how quickly something so meaningful can come to an end. Yet, perhaps that is exactly what makes it special. I am certain that day will be filled with smiles and tears, not because it marks an ending, but because it represents everything we have shared along the way.
More than anything, I find myself feeling grateful. Grateful to the people who listened to me talk for hours, who danced with me, ate with me, laughed with me, and sometimes simply sat beside me in silence. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed, moments when I doubted myself, and moments when I wanted to give up. Looking back, I realize that what carried me forward was never just my own determination, but the people who were there throughout every step of this long journey. Some may not even realize the impact they had on me, but I will carry those memories with me for a very long time.
Being part of this performance from the very beginning has taught me many things, but perhaps the most important lesson was how to truly cooperate with the people around me. I have never been the kind of person who naturally steps out of their comfort zone. That may sound like a lie to people who already know me, but I think I have always been more cautious than I appear. Deep down, I care a lot about what others think of me. In many ways, that fear has shaped the person who I am today. The way I speak, the way I act, and sometimes even the opportunities I choose to pursue, yet this experience has forced me to trust people in ways I hadn't before. It taught me that growth often begins where comfort ends. It showed me that vulnerability is not weakness, and that allowing yourself to rely on others can be one of the strongest things you do. Slowly, without even realizing it, I became more willing to open myself up to the people around me.
This brings me to my next topic: sonder.
How does that even relate, you may ask? Well, sonder is the realization that every stranger is living a life as vivid, complex, and meaningful as your own. Personally, I have always found this to be a beautiful word, one of those rare ideas that quietly changes the way you see the world. It is not just a definition, but a perspective.
In the past, I used to become annoyed or angry at people very easily. Maybe I have simply grown up, but learning this word changed something in me. It encouraged me to pause before making judgments and reminded me that everyone is carrying struggles that I know nothing about. When someone treats me poorly, I try to imagine what might have led them to act that way. “Sonder,” I tell myself. “Maybe they’ve just had a bad day. Maybe they’re dealing with something difficult. Maybe there’s a story I cannot see.”
Of course, this does not excuse every action, nor does it mean that everyone is always right. But it reminds me that people are human. And somehow, that simple realization has made life feel lighter. The world became less hostile and more understandable. I found myself becoming more patient, more empathetic, and more willing to give others the benefit of the doubt.
Looking back, I think this project itself has been an exercise in sonder. Throughout these months, I have had the privilege of working alongside so many different people, each carrying their own hopes, fears, ambitions, and insecurities. On the surface, we were all preparing for the same performance, but underneath that shared goal were countless individual stories unfolding at the same time. Recognizing that has made me appreciate everyone around me even more.
As this journey comes to an end, I do not think what I will remember most is the final performance itself. Rather, it will be the people, the conversations, the late nights, the small moments that seemed insignificant at the time, and the lessons I learned about both others and myself. If there is one thing I hope to carry with me after all of this is over, it is the understanding that every person I meet is living a life just as rich and complicated as my own.
And maybe that realization is one of the most valuable things this journey has given me.
-sayaka