I wish Kobayashi were real. More often than not, I curl and twist into a withering, pitiful ball to shelter myself from the eternal loneliness, knowing no woman will love me. But Kobayashi would love me. I love her more than anything, I love Kobayashi more than the air I breathe. I love her soft, silky hair, how it forms into elegant spikes perfectly complementing her smooth face. I love those dead, empty fish eyes conveying the hardship she endures. I especially love the way her glasses frame her face, encapsulating Kobayashi’s intelligence and gentleness as a woman, a mother, and a partner. I long to feel the warm, sleek hand of Kobayashi, how her slender fingers narrow down in elegant form, perfect for holding. Could you imagine how bright her smile would be on our wedding day? Seeing such a reserved and self-conscious woman feel liberated and complete in a gorgeous white bridal dress, with a ring on her finger, dazzling the guests with our love for each other. I’d do anything to see my beautiful Kobayashi with a veil over her face, proudly unveiling my wife-to-be from beneath the cloth. We’d be so happy together. I’d be so happy with her, and her alone. Nobody else can satisfy this void, this longing, this excurtiationg isolation than Kobayashi. My Kobayashi. All I want is for her hand in marriage, by my side, as we happily live together as a family. That’s all I want.