"I Thought Living in the Countryside Would Be Fine Since There's Internet" — It's Not, So Seriously Don't Do It

Since I wanted to live a subculture-focused life—going to movie theaters and live houses after work—I searched the internet for ways to ensure I'd be stationed in central Tokyo.

I came across a somewhat unethical suggestion: "Just say you need to live nearby to care for your parents in Tokyo." At the time, my mindset was "Subculture >>>>>>>>> Ethics," so I readily adopted it. I’m just glad the first website I saw didn't suggest threatening HR with a knife.

As a result, the HR manager told me, "Well, I managed to put you within commuting distance of Tokyo," and I was assigned to the absolute edge of the Kanto region, two and a half hours by train from the city center. Excuse me? Do they not realize that in this day and age, you can fly from Tokyo to Okinawa in two and a half hours?

Perhaps they saw through me and realized I just really wanted a city post, but if I actually had parents to care for, what were they thinking? It seems no one in this story possesses a sense of ethics. It’s just a tale of two people more chilling than a psychopath test result. We’re kind of alike, aren't we? Tee-hee.

However, once I was actually assigned to the countryside, I was surprisingly optimistic, thinking, "Well, in this era, I can get information, communicate, and shop online, so it'll work out." If I had pulled a Tarot card then, "The Fool" would have surely slammed down in front of me.

When I moved into the company-provided housing, it was a 15-minute walk from the station. Considering there was a sign for a "Used House for 2.2 Million Yen" on the way, I actually felt a sense of respect for the company's ability to be so stingy with rent in a place like this.

The apartment had a storage room and came furnished with a TV, bed, and desk. I thought it was convenient since I could store all my books and CDs and didn't have to buy furniture, but looking back, being told to repeat labor and sleep in that environment alone feels like a "pop" version of prison.

After unpacking for a few hours, it was night, so I looked for a place to eat and found a Vietnamese restaurant nearby. Oh, they actually have one. I checked a review site and saw a comment saying, "The pho is amazing because it's not instant noodles!" which felt like an omen of a dark future. When I actually went and ate there, the pho was served at a temperature and taste that felt like noodles just soaked in water. I found myself thinking, "I'd actually prefer instant noodles."

When I checked what else was around, there were only convenience stores, supermarkets, a karaoke box, a public bath, a business hotel (which was actually a dilapidated apartment), and rice fields. There wasn't a hint of subculture. A review for the business hotel said, "There is mold in the bath" and "There is poop left in the toilet as a matter of course." I wondered what they meant by "as a matter of course."

As someone who loves spending time alone, I still tried to stay positive: "Actually, this seems great for focusing on myself! I'll read tons of books, listen to tons of music, and go to live shows and plays on my days off! Like I thought before, communication and shopping are fine online!"

However, once I started working, I realized that seeking out subculture information entirely on my own while working required massive amounts of energy and mental strength. Furthermore, I was far from my friends, and my workplace was a "Champion Road" of misery with four middle-aged women who were already furious the moment they clocked in. My human communication plummeted.

I realized that in the city, just walking around allows information you want—or hints of it—to flow into you automatically. It was a god-tier environment that required little effort to dig into subculture.

More importantly, I realized that being passively showered with fun information was incredibly good for my mental health. In the RPG Final Fantasy, there's a spell called "Regen" that restores health bit by bit every turn. When I occasionally visited Tokyo, I realized that "living in the city" was my mental Regen. Without that recovery, I eventually lost the energy to even make the two-and-a-half-hour trip to Tokyo.

Because I wasn't getting information that triggered the urge to buy things, my desire to shop faded. Despite only making 180,000 yen a month, there was a mysterious month where I saved 140,000 yen because rent was so cheap.

People often say, "The world is full of information designed to make us buy things we don't need," but when you aren't even given that fictional joy, your spirit withers. Spending money is truly a form of happiness.

Once, while returning home from a training session in Shibuya, I started crying. "Wait, I'm going back to a land that has nothing to do with Suchmos? My life has zero connection to Suchmos now. Suchmos is too far away. Why has my life become so unrelated to Suchmos? I hate a life without Suchmos. Is everyone going back to the countryside 'good night' then? What??" My cognitive abilities had declined significantly.

So, what happened to me? In the end, I spent almost all my days off drinking at a karaoke box where every room was a party room because they had too much space. That was all the physical and mental strength I had left.

Reaching my limit in that environment, and lacking the energy to even think of a logical reason, I told my boss—despite not being a writer—"I want to put out a book. It's my dream. Books are cool. A book is like a motorcycle; it takes you far away in an instant. Thanks!" and abruptly quit. Now, for some reason, I actually have a book out, and I'm amazed at the power of manifestation.

People often move to the countryside because they're sick of the city, but for someone like me, that's just a temporary lapse in judgment. The idea that "it's fine because there's internet" is a total lie. It's not that the countryside is bad; looking at my acquaintances who seem to enjoy themselves wherever they are transferred, they are all people who grew up in the actual countryside. Building "rural resistance" as a child is important. Therefore, in this story, the fault lies with someone like me. Conversely, my friends born and raised in the country keep saying, "The city isn't a place for humans to live," like mountain witches. It's all about compatibility.

After quitting my job, I blew the 2 million yen I saved in the countryside almost instantly. I learned that saving money by enduring misery is ultimately meaningless. From now on, I only want to lead an "Urban Life" (the kind of catchphrase you only see on mediocre apartment listings).

Note: A book containing 24 essays, written with 300 times more effort than this, is now on sale! I wrote this to promote it, so I'd appreciate it if you bought it! It covers living alone, part-time jobs, and coffee—you'll probably enjoy it if you liked this! I've made the subculture talk accessible even without prior knowledge!