It was that time of year again.
The time of year when I hunkered down with a notebook and pen, stood in front of my window, and watched young trainers pass by the town with their new Pokémon. I would sit there for hours and describe the people I saw in the best detail I could muster, giving them my own names and memorizing them completely. It may seem like I was creeping on little kids, but I was actually doing research.
I had grown up depending on facts. I needed facts to function, to make decisions. I was never that "gut feeling" type of person. I needed to completely know what I was doing, how I would do it, and how it could affect me. And to know all of that, I needed to do research. My whole life I felt like I needed to take control of my life.
I was trying to perfectly plan out the one thing I probably couldn't control: My very first Pokémon Journey. It was frustrating, trying to figure out how I would travel and what I would do. It was seemingly impossible to make up the perfect journey, but that was what drove me the most. I was going to perfect it, no matter what. And I've been trying to do that for three years now. But that wasn't going to stop my stubborn self.
My stubbornness was why I was sitting on my bed cross-legged right now, tying up my plain brown hair into a messy bun and slaving over my notebook, oblivious to the rest of the world. I was going over some notes I had taken on this one trainer that I had seen a while back, recognizing him on television today. I read the notes over furiously, wrinkling my nose to keep my glasses on. It wasn't until I reached the end of his profile that I sighed and fell back.
How had that kid managed to do so well he ended up on television? What was it about a person that made them a good trainer? How could I fit those traits?
I let out a loud groan and rolled to my left, letting my head bob off the side of my bed. I stared down at the light beige carpet in my room and sighed, slumping my head down until the bun I had made undid itself and my hair tumbled down and brushed the ground. I lay in silence for what seemed like an eternity until I heard a light knock on the door, and a familiar soft voice sound through the wooden barrier.
"Can I come in, honey?"
I raised my head quickly and forced myself into a sitting position, reaching out for my notebook.
"Come in," I called, shutting the notebook quickly as my mother came in. Her green eyes were as bright as always and she had that same old kind smile on her face, as if assuring me I wasn't in any kind of trouble. My mother usually stayed out of my room unless I had done something wrong.
She only stood by the door, tilting her head in a manner that showed her suspicions. I knew she was worried about me this time of year. I did spend most of the day holed up in my room. It made perfect sense, but I still stayed in.
"Did you want to come outside with me for a while?" She looked over at me with hopeful eyes, the kind that brought a slight pang to my stomach. "We barely spend any time together these days…"
"I'm a little busy," I said quickly, before I regretted it. "I promised myself I wouldn't leave the house until I finished up this… project."
"Oh, okay," she said with a nod, "Try not to work yourself too hard." She turned around, making to leave, before turning her head to look back at me and sighing.
"Listen, hon…"
My mother walked back in, coming closer to me and sitting on the edge of my bed. I looked up at her silently, pushing up my glasses to show I was listening.
"Haven't you considered training Pokémon yet?" she asked, putting a hand on my lap. "I know you've never been the athletic type, or anything. But… I'm sure you'd make a great trainer. If you at least had some ambition, I would-"
"Just how could I be a good trainer?" I asked plainly. There was no sense of defiance or skepticism in my question; I was only asking.
"Well, you're a smart girl," she said with a small smile, "I think that's a pretty important quality in a trainer."
"… Is that all I need?" I muttered, "I only need smarts?"
"No, there's more to it. But-"
"What else do I need? How can I be a good trainer?"
"Well, you… have to try it, and see if you're good. I guess…"
I frowned, and crossed my arms. "I can't believe that's all there is to it."
My mother shrugged, and moved her hand onto my head, ruffling my hair slightly with a grin. "Well, you never know if you don't try, right?"
And with that, she stood up and left, shutting the door softly.
My shoulders slumped and I looked away from the door, refusing to give in to her words.
There was more to it than that. There must be some kind of method behind being a good trainer. I wasn't going to go anywhere until I figured out what that method was.
I forced myself to cling to that chance at perfection. I wanted to be a perfect, amazing trainer. I knew I could be if I figured out how to be good. I would figure it out… Or so I thought at that time.
Because it turned out that I did not figure out the secret behind training and I ended up going on my journey without any knowledge of the world around me. I had no control of my journey ahead and I hated that.
And I was most certainly not an amazing trainer.
It had been that time of year once again when I was forced on a journey. Instead of hunkering down with a notebook and watching the arising trainers pass I was one of those trainers.
This is where my journey really begins.