That kind of self-abasement is already arrogance.

※This article is a repost of an article originally published about 5 years ago.

　My favorite line from Sayonara o Oshiete is:

　“That kind of self-abasement is already arrogance.”

　People like me—human debris cluttering everyone else’s lives—immediately fall into self-deprecation, looking at others from a lowered gaze and saying things like, “You’ve really been blessed, haven’t you,” trying to one-up them with our own misery. But that’s arrogance, isn’t it? We think we’re being looked down on, when in fact we’re the ones looking down on others.

　Sorry for looking down on you.

　And yet, even as I apologize, I’m smiling. Bowing my head conveniently hides my expression, and the corners of my mouth curl up just the same. Inside and out, I’m grinning, blurting out things I don’t mean at all—“Shall I die to make amends?”

　Basically, most people are smarter than I am, so I feel inferior. That part is honest. I lack common sense, academic ability, refinement—those kinds of things. Everyone’s so clever and impressive; I imagine them watching something shady and vulgar like me as if I were a lab animal. And even as I think that, I feel guilty for the arrogance of seeing them through such a prejudiced lens.

　Even when I’m talking to someone, a cringing thought crosses my mind: “Surely everyone around here is superior to me anyway, so what’s the point of saying anything?” Then I get desperate not to bore them, which leads to more failures. After that, I protect myself by looking at them arrogantly—“They’re privileged anyway.” Over and over again. A person like this shouldn’t exist, right?

　Shall I die to make amends?