Everyone has one or two things that they’re good at, and even an apparently dull person can have a surprising skill. Some people will have a proud expression as they show off that skill, while others will have an apologetic modesty about them, depending on their disposition. Invariably, though, it’s the modest people who are more well-liked.
That’s one of the annoying things about people. You’ve done the same thing either way, but if you’re proud of it and let that show, they’ll view it in a lesser light. So you end up internally proud even as you wave it off as “nothing special.” As the observer, you can give a bit of praise—if an act is impressive, you can reassure someone who’s proud of achieving it that they should be. Offering that praise makes you both happy. Then again, I suppose that not being able to do that freely is just one of the idiosyncrasies of people’s emotions. People have their particular skill, yet they always brush off any praise for it, hiding the fact that they even want the praise at all. You could think of that as a Japanese virtue, I suppose, but I’m not sure that holds true anymore. Doesn’t it ever come full circle and end up irritating?
“That’s really something.”
“Oh, no no, not at all.”
“Seriously, it’s great.”
“No no no, it’s nothing, really.”
When people that want to offer praise are refuted over and over, they won’t want to do so anymore. There’s no real certainty that the person was always so humble, though. Maybe they were more honest about their pride in the past, but then met someone bitter that didn’t want to give that praise. Perhaps that’d happened several times and thus they’d eventually decided to humble themselves, convinced that they could then avoid the discomfort of being denied praise.
There are people that are content in being modest, of course, so when someone has a little pride in themselves, they end up being shouted down with comments about making a big deal, getting carried away, and exaggerating their abilities. We can’t forget, though, that those people with some pride in themselves haven’t done anything wrong. The only thing wrong is that the people around them can’t see what they did to earn that pride. Don’t you think it’s strange to tell a person they should just shut up and sit down after they’ve worked so hard to be able to stand tall like that?
There will always be people that complain. There’s no avoiding that, and they do have a right to say what they want to. But I want people to know that they don’t have to just nod along and fit themselves into the boxes that other people create.
“Look, aren’t they great? Is complaining the only thing you’re good at?”
That’s what I want to say to them. And yet the people that complain are proud of that skill; you could aptly call that kind of pride putting yourself on a pedestal.
Everyone, you should do your best to avoid being a person whose skill is in complaining. If you see someone proudly doing what they love, should you not praise them? That way, when you’re proud, someone will praise you. Modesty is something that should itself be used in moderation, and being honest is important.
Think back. When you were ten, were you modest about being praised? However people are as adults, they were more honest as children. And yet as the years go by, these things become more difficult. You can’t give an apology, despite wanting to. You can’t admit when you want to do something. You hold yourself back, even if there’s something you badly want. Eventually, even the question of whether you’ll eat the candy in front of you becomes a source of real conflict with yourself. You could eat it without issue, but making that choice has gotten much harder, so even growing up isn’t all good.
Adults know more than children. After all, they’ve lived longer. But what often gets misunderstood is that whether that extra knowledge actually makes you wiser is another matter. Knowledge doesn’t necessarily equate to wisdom. There are some children that are wiser than adults, and they can do things even the adults around them think are difficult as if they were nothing.
Now, our story this time begins in a car on a mountain road on the outskirts of a certain country. The roof is loaded down with luggage, so each bump in the road makes the car shake from side to side. Sitting in the driver’s seat is a young man midway between adulthood and childhood. He’s, say, seventeen or eighteen. He’s obviously driving without a license, but those rules don’t exist in this world, so that’s fine. Regardless, this otherworld is already in ruins. As he drives, the young man turns toward the back seat and speaks.
“Man, I wish we had a map. Then we wouldn’t be lost...”
So, how was volume two of Goodbye Otherworld, See You Tomorrow?
I have a cushion ready here for the people that prefer to read the afterwords first. As to why I started off with an anecdote out of nowhere... You’re quite right, it’s because I have six pages to use for the afterword this time.
Hi there, I’m Kazamidori.
The appeal behind writing is being able to get into your reader’s head. In every piece of writing, there are things that the author planned all along, and things that they did not, and the people that have read this far into the afterword are probably thinking, “That’s a good point,” or, “When did the skit start?” or even, “The author’s just after some praise.”
So, what was the author’s plan this time? Half of it is just that: when you take an anecdote that far, it creates an atmosphere where the reader thinks, “I suppose I can give a few words of praise.” The other half is that I couldn’t think of anything to fill six pages with. I know how to write a story, but writing an afterword is something I still haven’t quite mastered. So I started the afterword with that joking little anecdote, though I do think a lot of it applies to this story.
Is this even an afterword? Well, I’m not quite sure myself. To wrap things up, I’ll do the acknowledgments.
I caused my editor Tanabe-san a lot of hassle with this volume. The plotting stage ended up going back and forth because I wasn’t sure which way to take the story, and I ultimately went over the deadline and the word count. Tanabe-san’s perseverance and sharp insight is the reason I managed to get this far.
My illustrator Nimoshi-san drew illustrations that were utterly filled with emotion, giving a beautiful glimpse into the world and the characters’ emotions.
This book is the result of many people’s work, including the proofreaders and designers, and I want to take the time here to offer thanks to them all.
To you readers, I hope that this story will be a good journey and I say to you all, hoping we can someday meet again: see you tomorrow.
Kazamidori, May 2020