The Urge To Create

"If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it."

This quote was said by the famous American novelist Toni Morrison during her speech at the Ohio Arts Council in 1980. It advises you to follow your heart till the end of the world and to never let that urge to create something die out.

Hope is the thing that keeps us humans working like horses till the day we die. Maybe my parents were a little too hopeful when they decided to name me Haruki, which, depending on the kanji you use to write it, can mean "clear hope" or "spring tree." Either way, both meanings radiate positivity and optimism, which is very opposite to the way I have lived since my birth.

Maybe I did emanate hope when I was still in middle school, but since then I have never really reached a point where I can proudly say that I am a valued member of society. I have more or less isolated myself from people. I am more of a liability than an asset.

The problem doesn't just lie with me. I believe society, or more specifically the new generation, is to be held accountable as well. Society doesn't try to understand introverted people like us. They label us as rude, arrogant, egoistic, saying things like, "Look at him trying to act like he is some big shot." When, at the end of the day, we just like our own company. We are doing it out of our own accord.

There's a specific term for people like us — we are loners. Don't confuse it with loneliness. We loners enjoy our own company; we do not need other people to entertain ourselves. Pretty sure this was one of the driving factors for me to start reading and writing stories.

From the beginning, I have had this urge to read and write stories, which I presume came from me being a manga and light novel fan from an early age. Reading the popular titles and then venturing into the lesser-known ones. Those stories introduced me to a whole other aspect of our world. They broadened my imagination. The more I read, the more lost I became in my own imagination.

"Haruki! Haruki! Mr. Ha-ru-ki!"

Before I could react or answer him, a piece of chalk came flying and hit my head.

"Focus on the class instead of slacking off. This has been the third time in the week that I have caught you slacking."

"S-sorry, sir. I'll heed your warning next time."

Everyone around me laughed. I could do nothing but laugh in embarrassment. Though this did showcase how lost I had become in my own imagination in just my second year of middle school. I couldn't even focus in school, nor when the teacher called out to me.

This year was also the first year when I tried writing my own light novel. This was the first time I had ever written down the fantasy ideas that my mind was imagining. I was honestly very proud of my creation. I even shared it with my mother.

"Mommy! Look! Look at what I created. A light novel."

"Wow, my little author has written something so interesting."

"Huh? Mommy, but you didn't even read it."

"I can tell by your excitement it must be amazing."

"Thanks! I love you, Mom."

Even Mother loved it, which just boosted my confidence in myself.

So it's hard to believe it all came crashing down just a few days after that.

The daydreaming in class became very habitual for me. I had no idea this would cost me big time. I couldn't heed the warning that was given to me earlier that week. The teacher had enough of me disturbing the decorum of the classroom. He contacted my parents.

My father was unlike my mother. He was strict when it came to studies. This is why I didn't tell him about my hobby of reading and writing. He would have dismissed it as a waste of time.

"Mr. Masato, your son Haruki has been disturbing the decorum of the classroom. He is constantly lost in thought and doesn't even try to focus."

"Is that true, Haruki?"

Being an early teen at this point, I didn't take the allegations lightly.

"I was not lost in thought. I-I was thinking about what I needed to write."

"Yeah... yeah, I was just thinking about my story."

"No matter the reasoning, you can't negate the fact that you have been constantly daydreaming."

"Mr. Kinoshita, I sincerely apologize for all the trouble my son has caused you and the school."

Before me was a sight I thought I would never behold. My father was bowing down 90 degrees. His head was nearly touching his knees as he apologized to my teacher.

"Ahh—Mr. Masato, you don't have to bow and apologize so sincerely."

"I, as his teacher, want nothing but good for him."

"I appreciate you accepting my apology, Mr. Kinoshita. Please keep looking out for my son."

He was smiling in front of my teacher, but those eyes were telling me a different story. Those were the same eyes I had seen when my big brother tried to convince him to pursue basketball as a career and drop out of college.

The second the words left his mouth, the cracking sound of glass was heard. Broken glass shards were flying all over. The place we used to call home was now more hostile than a battlefield. No wonder he moved out after completing high school.

I always had a strong relationship with him. He used to play with me when both Mother and Father were at work, helping me with my homework, though I did hate his annoying habit of teasing. But when he was leaving, I was very dejected. It was like a huge part of me had just vanished all of a sudden.

He noticed my sad face, and before leaving he told me:

"Haruki, I know you're super talented."

"Wherever you put your mind, you succeed."

"I know you'll surpass me one day, so don't let anyone stop you."

"Do what you love."

"That's why we humans are given a life — to follow and pursue what we perceive as right."

"Thanks, big brother. I'll remember that," I said to him while wiping my eyes full of tears.

Now Father had the same look in his eyes as that time.

It was time to decide for myself.

He left for work, and I went back to class. The decisive battle was to be held at night. As much as I was trying to act strong on the outside, my heart was beating fast. I was nervously sweating. I knew I had to face this person head-on. If I was going to follow my brother's advice, I had to face him.

The day passed, and I was ready to head home. I had mentally prepared myself to do what I needed to do. The confidence was oozing out of me. Each step I took, I felt a mix of emotions colliding in my heart. If you think faster blood circulation is what makes your heart beat faster, then my friend, you have never experienced emotions.

Entering through the front door, I took a deep breath and went straight to the living room. There he was, sitting with his hands crossed and his head slightly down. He noticed me right away.

The fight to get the right to decide my future had started.

"So do you also plan to follow in your idiot brother's footsteps?"

"Brother was not an idiot, Father."

"He only followed what he loved."

"And that's idiocy. The world doesn't work according to your will."

"So what if it doesn't?"

"Does that mean we should stop dreaming?"

"Dreams are nothing but unattainable realities."

"No, this is where you are wrong, Father."

"Dreams are what give us hope."

"Dreams are what give our life direction to follow."

"Brother realized it at an early age and decided to go with it."

"I intend to do the same. You can't steal my right to decide my own future."

"Do what you want. Let's see if you can continue to keep the same amount of passion after a few days."

"I'll keep this passion till the day I can stand in front of you with my head high and prove you wrong."

Those were the words I was going to regret in a few days.

I had no clue to what levels of misery my father would put me through to make sure I didn't end up like his elder son and to set an example for his younger daughter to never disobey him.

The next couple of days went normally — no, they went by marked only by the steady rhythm of pen against paper. Having a morale boost, I was working even harder till that dreaded day came around.

Reaching my classroom as usual, I thought of it as a normal day. Until I opened the door.

The entire class was looking at me.

My anxiety shot above the charts. I was feeling things I couldn't even explain at that time — a certain degree of uneasiness overwhelming my senses.

I slowly went to my seat, still confused about the entire situation.

Mr. Kinoshita entered to begin the homeroom class.

All of a sudden, one of the boys sitting in the back stood up. He started reading something aloud. At first, I couldn't recognize it. But slowly, realization dawned on me.

It was the novel that I was working on.

The novel that only my mother and I knew about.

My breathing became rapid. My heart was pumping blood faster than I could imagine. Voices started emerging.

"Ohhhh... such a cringe thing!"

"Who even reads this nerdy type of stuff?"

They started laughing and mocking.

"Do you seriously believe in this kid-type stuff?"

"Look at him trying to be arrogant."

"He thinks he is some kind of prodigy!"

"He thinks he can become a light novel artist!"

"I always found him creepy from the beginning."

The voices resonated in my head constantly.

Even the teacher didn't hold back. He joined in with them.

Someone had uploaded the novel I wrote onto the school group chats.

They continued laughing, making sure even the tiniest bits of optimism were taken away from me.

The teacher walked up to me, clapping his hands to silence the class.

"Now, now, class. Silence please..."

He patted my back, lowering his lips near my ear and told me:

"This is for your own good. Give up on your dreams."

"Dreams are nothing but unattainable realities."

It all started making sense to me.

My father had orchestrated all of this to make sure I lost whatever motivation I had to keep writing.

He succeeded.

I threw away what I had left, no longer wanting to write anything.

I went to school regularly, though it didn't do anything to ease the pain and damage I was feeling. I didn't have the courage anymore to confront Father.

The isolation in school continued till graduation.

The life once envisioned was crushed by the toxic environment and reality.