Be the sculptor of yourself.

My second son is one year younger than my first son.
※First son: Tane-taro, Second son: Tane-jiro

When he was little, if he lost a sibling quarrel, he would cry bitterly in frustration,
saying, "I'm always going to be second best for the rest of my life!"

Once, while looking at a photo of his older brother as a baby, he said,
"Big brother is always wearing my clothes," which left me frozen.
(He had no idea they were hand-me-downs.) Another time, when Tane-taro warned him to clean up the socks he had left exactly where he took them off, he retorted,

"If you're the one who noticed them, you should be the one to clean them up!" leading to a sibling fight.

I had to hold back my laughter because he said such funny things.
Setting aside the humor in his perspective, I still had to reprimand Tane-jiro for the time being.

Then he would get angry and cry, feeling that being the younger brother was a disadvantage,
saying, "Big brother always wins anyway!"

In the first place, I don't think it's about winning or losing, and putting your own socks into the laundry basket is, at the very least, not a disadvantage.

Tane-jiro's unique arguments felt like a "self-centered gag."
It was frustrating, but unique.

Their communication styles were also contrasting; Tane-taro was a master of consideration and restraint, and even if he felt cold, he would first check on the feelings of those around him, asking,
"Mom, aren't you cold?"

However, Tane-jiro would snap at Tane-taro for that, saying,
"You're so indirect! Just say clearly what you want to say!"

Despite that, Tane-jiro was a cheerful mood-maker at school. His teachers always praised his brightness. While he seemed to be doing well, he would complain of feeling unwell and stay home once or twice every three to four months.

If he said he "wanted to rest," I let him rest without saying a word. I thought that because he was so competitive, he couldn't say it out loud, but he probably just wanted to be pampered.

He was also a simple, or rather, easy-to-understand child.

After graduating from high school, he failed the entrance exam for the university he chose to continue the archery he was into, and "sort of" went on to an automotive vocational school.

However, within a year, he let slip, "I didn't really like cars that much."

The entrance fees and tuition for vocational school are expensive. I had borrowed money to make the down payment to send him there, so when I heard Tane-jiro's words, I literally collapsed to my knees.

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility for having "chosen it himself," he studied seriously for two years despite his inner turmoil and graduated. He even finished with surprisingly high grades.
I think he used his self-esteem as fuel.

On the other hand, even though he had no interest in cars, he couldn't find an answer in those two years as to what he wanted to do, so he went on to work as a technician for an automobile manufacturer.
And then, about a year later, he became unable to go to work.

Worried about Tane-jiro, who was absent for days, his boss went out of his way to contact him and even came to see him. Tane-jiro was highly regarded at his workplace and was expected to do great things.

However, unable to bear the pain of suppressing his own sense of discomfort more than the expectations of those around him, he chose to resign.

Before long, I started a part-time job at a nearby bookstore. And I spent all my other time holed up in my room, drawing.

It seems that when my sketches were highly praised in a drafting class or something during my vocational school days, it
struck a chord with me.

I had been drawing as a hobby since then, but after I quit my job, as if possessed by something,
I spent 7 hours at my part-time job, 7 hours sleeping, and almost all the remaining time immersed in drawing.

However, it was also a struggle with the anxiety of not seeing a future.
I was always stressed and my spirits were frayed.
As if projecting my inner self onto the outside world, I was irritated by everything—people and things alike.

I was always in a state of combat, or at least, to an outsider, it looked like I was making everyone else an enemy in order to stick to my own unique worldview.

At that time, his spiritual salvation was the words of Nietzsche.

—Be the sculptor of your own self—

—There are no facts, only interpretations—

I think it healed Tanejiro's frayed feelings and sharp nerves back then.

Ten years have passed since then.
For him, his painful twenties must have been long, but he never stopped drawing. He is now working as a freelance original art creator.
He is truly the master of his own domain; he sculpted himself from scratch.

He built himself in this material world relying only on what he felt.

He won't tell me anything about his work or his income.
The other day, when the topic of Twitter came up by chance, I was stunned to learn that Tanejiro has nearly 300,000 followers.

“300,000!? Didn't you get the number wrong?”

“I didn't get it wrong.”

“Who are you, anyway? Are you, by any chance, someone famous?”

“No, no, no, it's not like that. I'm just a subcontractor.”

He looks a bit puffed up with pride.
But whenever I try to probe his income, he skillfully avoids it.

He currently rents an apartment about 15 minutes away by bike, which he uses as his office. And he comes home every so often with a pile of laundry.
Even though he is financially independent enough, for some reason, he won't buy a washing machine.

“So that means you have a certain track record.”

When I said that, he looked me straight in the eye and said,

“Don't count on me.”

Tanejiro's mood shows in his eyebrows.

Geez.
I just wanted to ask how much he earns, that's all.

Is he trying to warn me?
And, for some reason, I feel a bit frustrated.