sol.ace_r

I am someone who always stops at around 98%.
The moment I think I have almost arrived, strangely, my fingertips slow down and my heart takes a step back.
People ask why I never fill in the final 2%, but I like that small gap.
The trembling right before completion, the feeling that it still has not ended, the sense of being alive even without filling everything completely.
If it ever became 100%, I feel as though nothing would move anymore.

To me, 98% was a certain kind of warmth.
The fading warmth of tea as it slowly cools, the traces of feelings that arrived a little too late, or the brief radiance of love shining brightest just before it becomes complete.
A strange warmth that remains alive inside all the things left unfinished.
I tend to linger on that warmth for a long time.
Because I believe that the empty 2% is where a person’s true color quietly remains.

At some point, a thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps the desire for 100% is, in its own way, fear.
The fear of losing something, of letting it slip away, the urge to cling to perfection.
But I needed that remaining 2% in order to breathe.
If something is too full, it overflows; if it is too empty, only the wind remains.
Somewhere in between, at the point of balance, I can finally remain as myself.

People are like that too.
Everyone lives while carrying around 2% of feelings left unspoken.
When we try too hard to fill that space, we only become more clumsy and begin to misunderstand each other.
Rather, it is because of that empty 2% that we are given room to approach one another.
A space to reach out, a gap where feelings touch even without words, an indescribable texture of emotion.
I believe in that texture.
I believe that when your 98% meets my 98%, the warmest current flows through those subtle spaces between us.

Today as well, I end the day without fully completing anything.
And yet, strangely, my heart feels light.
The remaining 2% feels like proof that something inside me is still alive.
Perhaps one day it will be filled, or perhaps it will remain empty forever, but that uncertainty gently pushes me forward.

That is what the world of 98% is like.
Because it has not ended, it continues on; because it is not completely filled, we can keep looking at it a little longer.
I love the warmth of things left unfinished.
And today as well, within that warmth, I piece myself back together.