Confessions to the Creative Awards

Ten days have passed since the submission deadline for the Creative Awards.

For these past ten days—no, really since the latter half of June—a feeling of repentance has been growing within me.
This is because I hadn't truly understood how serious and noble an endeavor this annual festival really is.

I started this account about a month after the submission period for the Creative Awards had already begun.
I thought, 'Since I've gone to the trouble of starting an account, I want to meet wonderful creators whose work I'd love to read every time.' While wandering around without knowing the best way to find them, the words 'Creative Awards' kept popping up before my eyes.

I flew to the special page with a feeling of, 'Oh, I think I've heard of that,' and skimmed through the content.
I thought, 'Wow, there are so many sponsoring companies, that's amazing. There's an essay category too. I'll submit something.'
I really submitted with just that level of casualness. That's why I ended up submitting multiple pieces, including some that lacked depth. To be honest, I just thought that if I attached the essay category tag, it would be easier to meet people who like essays or who write them.

However, the actual passion of the Creative Awards was something else. As I gradually made more acquaintances within note, I finally understood how seriously everyone was dedicating themselves to this competition.
People who I thought wrote such interesting articles every day were agonizing over the fact that they couldn't quite write their entry for this year's Creative Awards. Some were panicking because the deadline was approaching.
When I looked closely, I saw that it was overflowing with creators engaged in a battle with themselves that far exceeded my expectations.

That was when I finally realized. The Creative Awards is not something you enter with the attitude of, 'Oh, there's a festival going on! I'll show my face too!' This is the summer Inter-High School Championships.
I felt so out of place, like I had wandered in pushing a city bike while everyone else was gripping the handlebars of well-worn road bikes, staring up at the mountains of Hakone.
It's like being a first-year student who is happily fooling around, unaware of the feelings of the seniors burning with passion for their final school festival.

Perhaps I was displaying my ignorance even within note.
In the end, I didn't even know how many entries there were for this year's Creative Awards, and I didn't even recognize the deadline until there was an official announcement.
I hadn't even gone to read and learn from past winning works, and it was such a half-hearted participation that I wouldn't have been able to complain if someone had asked, 'Are you even motivated?'

As someone who submitted a few works, and as someone who writes, I never created each essay carelessly. But even so, I felt ashamed. I was thoroughly ashamed of my own frivolity and ignorance.
Ever since I realized that, I stopped using the Creative Awards hashtag casually. That hashtag felt far too heavy for me now.
However, at the same time, a new feeling began to sprout.

'I want to try challenging this seriously, too.'

Writing good prose is not an easy task.
No matter how world-shattering your experiences may be, or how many stories you have that would make the whole country weep, it can become a trite boast depending on how you write it.
Conversely, no matter how trivial the daily life or how common the scene, if the person holding the pen changes, it can become a beacon of hope for someone's life.

Isn't the reason I write because I wanted to be the kind of person who could hold up a small light in someone's life like that? And yet, look at me now. This is a confession, a great confession of repentance.

Therefore, for next year's Creative Awards, I will surely submit one piece that I have poured my heart and soul into. I will face it so seriously that I can't help but worry about the results of the preliminary selection every day. I will write a world that makes even one more person smile.

The next time I use the Creative Awards 2027 hashtag, it won't be a city bike. I, too, will climb the mountain of literature on a road bike that I have ridden until it's worn out. Aiming for that summit that everyone looks up to.

It doesn't have to be first place. Being at the back of the pack is fine too. The slope might be so steep it makes me want to cry, and it might go on forever. I might look down many times. My head might be filled with the desire to just put my feet down.
Even so, I will pedal, and pedal. The blue sky at the summit, where the view suddenly opens up, must be more beautiful than anything else.

Believing that, I have come to want to pedal my own bike, too.