The Thorny Path
I’ve said it before—my life’s been like living outdoors.
Sixty-five years on this earth, and yeah… it’s been a thorny path. Born in the middle of the Showa era, just a regular working-class kid. My old man ran an auto repair shop, my mom was a hairdresser. They worked themselves to the bone, but thanks to them, we never went hungry.
Thing is, when you’re from the working class and you want to achieve something, you’ve got to bleed for it. My folks were always busy, so I had a lot of time alone. Somewhere around ten years old, I made up my mind:
“Get out as soon as I can. Earn my own money. Live on my own.”
And for that, the first weapon was study. I put in the work—enough to make it to high school, then university. I’ll admit it: I couldn’t have done it without my parents. You can’t exactly support yourself as a kid.
Graduation was my breakaway. I left home and started living on my own terms. My father passed away seven years ago. My mother just left this world last New Year’s Eve.
They had their lives, I have mine. I think I know what they hoped for me… but at the end of the day, nobody can truly read another person’s heart.
That’s fine. I’ve lived my way.
Almost nothing ever came easy. Plenty of failures, plenty of times I fell flat—but every time, I told myself, “You’ve got to find a way through.”
Found work. Made money. Protected what mattered. Money isn’t everything, but without financial independence, you’re just stuck.
My motto? Double or nothing. Every new job, I set the goal to double my salary. I started at rock bottom, so sometimes, yeah, I actually pulled it off.
Looking back, it really was a thorny path. Thorns cut you, slow you down, snag your clothes and your skin. They hurt, and they hold you back. But so what? I’m still here.
Sixty-five years, and I’ve survived this far. I’ll keep walking this outdoor life of mine… a little longer.
(January 6, 2025)