Gen Urobuchi wants to write stories that can warm people's hearts.
Those who know about my creative history will probably furrow their brows and think this is a sick joke. Honestly, I have trouble believing it myself. For when I start typing out words on the keyboard, the stories my brain comes up with are always full of madness and despair.
I have nothing but contempt for the thing men call happiness, and have had to push the characters I poured my heart out to create into the abyss of tragedy.
For all things in the world, if they are just left alone and paid no attention, are bound to advance in a negative direction.
At some point, Gen Urobuchi lost that power. He still hasn't recovered. The "tragedy syndrome" is still continuing within me. Is this a terminal disease? Should I give up on the pure "warrior of love" that I have longed for? Or mount a pallid battle steed and reincarnate into a bearer of the plague... could it be that I can only create pieces that give men courage and hope in my next life? (When I wrote this, I accidentally wrote "courage" as "lingering ghosts". I guess that's what I get for using IME -- Ah, I just wrote "IME" as "hatred"... is there no way out of this for me?)
