Looking back on my life, so many people have ridiculed me so many times. Some professor said, "You're not cut out for this." Another said, "Your awkwardness is the manifestation of your sincerity." Still another said, "You're monotonous and far from interesting."
Every time I thought of this series of riducule, the anger and the vexation relived in me so that I clenched my fist or vented the emotions on something. But now the remembrance doesn't cause me so much disorder. I outgrew it. Let me tell what it means when I say I outgrew the feelings.
It is not that I can be proud of myself in spite of the derision. I am not proud of myself. I used to find my consolation in these words of Dazai Osamu: "The ultimate basis of your pride in yourself is the clear awareness of yourself as having suffered everything almost to death.
Also, I used to find another consolation in the words of my friend. He said that what is ridiculed should have the value which is not yet disclosed. I appreciated them. But look. I have nothing to be proud of. I know next to nothing, I am a poor reader, I can't read books in French or German, and so on.
Then what does it mean when I say that I have grown out of the misery of being derided? The answer is the awareness that no matter what they think of me, no matter how bad I am, I have found something worth living for, I am determined to do it and I have no alternative but to live this life.