Yume o ou

Imagine this.

You’re 15 in the YA section of a library when a book catches your eye. You pick up Uglies by Scott Westerfeld and take it home because something about it feels interesting.

By the time you finish it, your mom is sitting across from you, asking a simple question: “What did you learn from it?”

That question turns into a four-hour conversation about beauty standards, conformity, and individuality. On the surface, it’s just a dystopian sci-fi novel with a bit of romance. But in my home, it wasn’t ever simply that.

Now, fast forward.

You’re 20, watching The Age of Adaline with your dad in a movie theater. When the credits roll, you think it’s time to leave, but he asks you to stay seated.

“What did you notice about the lighting?”

Suddenly, you’re not talking about the story. You’re analyzing mood, visual language, and how every frame was intentionally shaped to make you feel something.

That was my childhood. It shaped how I see stories: as something meant to be analyzed, not just enjoyed.

Stories were never “simply entertainment.” They were art, conversation, and a way of understanding the human experience.

Without realizing it, my parents’ perspectives made me a storyphile.

My Mom’s Perspective: Books as Meaning

My mom has been a bookworm for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure she’s ever truly given a “bad” review of a book because she respects storytelling too deeply for that.

To her, books are intentional expressions of thought. Someone is putting their inner world into words, setting it out to sail. Trusting a stranger to come on board and understand what they’ve written. It’s a precious process.

So reading started as an escape. A way to go anywhere from the comfort of home. But over time, it became something deeper: a way to comprehend humanity.

Which means when I’d read a book, my mom wouldn’t just ask if I liked a story. She’d asked what it meant.

My siblings and I actually weren’t allowed to complain about a book unless we could explain what the story was trying to say and give a clear reason as to why we deserved to complain. We weren’t allowed to judge a book by its cover either; we had to read the synopsis first.

At the time, they seemed like dumb rules.

Now I realize it trained me to understand before I judge and to look for meaning everywhere.

My Dad’s Perspective: Film as Craft

My dad experienced movies differently from others.

He didn’t focus much on emotions the way my mom did. He cared about the craft: the lighting, the editing, the structure, and how scenes were built to guide attention and feeling.

For him, movies were something to study. The emotions and lessons weren’t lost on him, but he believed the experience of a tale mattered more than what the story was trying to say.

So he had strong opinions. Gone Girl, in his view, leaned too heavily into style over substance. But he respected films like Austin Powers for their care in comedic timing and execution.

Movies, to him, gave overall depth rather than an exploratory depth. In other words, he felt film was a better teacher than words. So it should be no surprise that when I’d ask for advice, he would recommend films instead.

When I was struggling to understand love, he didn’t try to define it. Instead, he told me to watch Stardust and Love Actually.

When I was trying to improve in debate, he told me to watch The Dictator. Which wasn’t something I completely understood, but I still placed second at state that season.

His way of teaching was indirect, but somehow still intentional.

How This Shaped the Way I Experience Anime

Growing up between those two perspectives changed everything about how I consume media, because it trained me to look for meaning and presentation, not just entertainment.

So I don’t just watch stories; I analyze them instinctively.

I’m constantly asking:

Why did this character have to make this choice?

What is the story really saying underneath the plot?

Why did they choose to clothe the character in red?

That mindset naturally carried into anime.

While I’ve loved the likes of Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Alfred Hitchcock, and Frances Marion, anime blends both of my parents’ perspectives perfectly.

It has the emotional richness my mom taught me to look for and the visual craft that my dad taught me to respect.

It’s layered storytelling built on symbolism, character study, and emotional truth.

The Anime That Changed the Way I Think

When One Piece comes on, I still think about Ace’s death. Not solely as a plot point, but as a moment that reshaped the story's emotional foundation. Even though he’s fictional, the grief feels real every time I revisit it.

When I watch My Dress-Up Darling or More Than a Married Couple, But Not Lovers, I’m drawn to characters like Marin and Akari. It’s not just their confidence but also the insecurity beneath it. They feel human in a way that leaves an impact and inspires me to be more like them.

Even shows like Solo Leveling and Black Clover carry something deeper for me. They push questions like:

Am I becoming better?

Am I living authentically?

What does growth actually require?

And I find myself changing because of those questions.

Not dramatically, but consistently.

Why Anime Feels Natural to Me

I didn’t grow up learning that stories can be more than entertainment. I grew up in a house where that was already the lesson.

Books weren’t just read; they were examined. Films weren’t just watched; they were studied. Every story came with questions, conversations, and meaning layered underneath the surface.

So when I found anime, I didn’t have to “learn” how to see it that way.

It already fit into how I viewed stories.

Because anime does what I was raised to look for: It treats emotion as intentional. It treats visuals as language. It treats character choices as something worth dissecting.

That’s why certain scenes stay with me well after I’ve finished a series. Not because I’m trying to find meaning, but because I’ve always naturally looked for it.

Stories were never background noise in my life.

They were always the point.

Anime Was Part of My Childhood

I can’t really say when my love for anime began.

I never had a single moment where I discovered anime and became obsessed. As a kid, I just watched whatever caught my eye. I chose stories that let me dream, use my imagination, and feel all kinds of emotions. Watching them was almost an escape from my everyday childhood routines.

It took me years to realize how many of those stories were connected and how anime had been shaping my childhood all along.

The Anime That Influenced My Early Years

You could say it all started with Yu-Gi-Oh!. Like many kids, I got into the card game - collecting, trading, and dueling at school. Playing the game made me want to watch the show so I could join in on my friends’ conversations.

But anime was around before Yu-Gi-Oh! even came into my life.

My dad loved movies, so our house was always filled with films from every genre. Watching classics like Akira, Castle in the Sky, Kiki's Delivery Service, and Princess Mononoke felt normal to me. We even had Pokémon: The First Movie on VHS, but I wouldn’t watch it again because it made me cry.

I don’t think my dad even knew what anime was. He just loved movies and animation and the experiences they could give people.

There was a time when my dad got really into samurai films, both animated and live-action. I remember my parents arguing because my mom thought it wasn’t right for a five-year-old to watch so much violence. Years later, I asked my dad why he let me watch those movies, and he said it was a way for me to experience different cultures and ways of thinking, all from our living room.

But back then, I didn’t realize any of this was called "anime."

All I knew was that these stories made me feel something. They pulled me into worlds I wanted to live in, introduced me to characters I cared about, and sparked an imagination that has stayed with me.

The Anime That Meant So Much to Me

If I had to pick one anime that really pulled me in as a kid, though, it would be Inuyasha.

I made sure to watch every episode. It was more than just a show to me because I wanted to be Kagome. As a kid, I was fascinated by Japan and its culture, so seeing her live in Tokyo felt like a dream. She was kind, brave, and strong-willed, which I admired as a young girl. I also had a big crush on Inuyasha, so seeing them together made me love the show even more.

If anyone had encouraged cosplay back then, I would have chosen Kagome first.

Growing Up Around Anime Without Realizing It

But Inuyasha was just one of many shows that made an impact on me.

I loved the dreamy, magical style of Sailor Moon and wished I could fight alongside the Sailor Scouts. Ranma ½ frustrated me because I wanted Ranma to finally admit he loved Akane. Every mission in Yu Yu Hakusho felt intense because Yusuke had to survive and return to Keiko. Soul Eater seemed like a cooler, darker version of Billy & Mandy to me, even if they weren’t really alike.

Those were the stories I felt closest to. They were the shows I rushed home to watch and kept thinking about long after the episodes ended.

The funny thing is, even after all that, I still didn’t see myself as someone who was really into anime.

For a long time, anime was just a quiet part of my life. I barely noticed it.

Meanwhile, my sister was really into anime and manga. She talked about her favorite series all the time, but it didn’t really click for me. I just thought it was nice how much she cared, so I listened when she wanted to share.

Looking back, I wish I had taken a break from college work to show more interest. Maybe she would have shared even more, and I might have discovered my own love for anime sooner.

Eventually, she got my brother into anime too. You might think that would have been when it all clicked for me, but it wasn’t. I was too busy trying to figure out adulthood.

I just kept watching whatever interested me, and sometimes those shows happened to be anime.

Things didn’t start to change until years later, when I got my dream job at a local mixing and mastering studio.

Rediscovering Anime As An Adult

My coworkers always talked about anime, especially Dr. Stone. Hearing how much they loved it made me want to watch anime too. It gave me a reason to connect with anime intentionally.

So, without telling anyone, I went home and made a Funimation account, back before Crunchyroll bought them. Right away, I felt overwhelmed.

There were so many shows, and I didn’t know where to start. I wasn’t sure if my coworkers’ suggestions would fit me, since I hadn’t realized how much anime was already part of my life. It all felt new, so I went back to the anime I grew up with and hoped the algorithm would help me find more.

Just as I was getting into anime, the pandemic hit. I lost my job, my motivation, and my interest for a while. After that, I only watched familiar anime because trying new shows felt overwhelming.

A few years later, my partner and I went to a local anime event at our YMCA. Being around real fans brought back my excitement for these stories.

Since then, anime has become an important part of my life.

Anime Feels Like Home Now

I’ve watched more series than I ever expected. From One Piece and Solo Leveling to Blue Box and Horimiya, I’m not afraid to try new anime anymore, since I can always stop if I don’t like it. Now, I ask my sister (and sometimes my brother) for recommendations, and sometimes I even suggest shows to her. It’s something we’ve really bonded over, and I’m grateful for that connection.

Honestly?

Anime makes my life feel brighter. It’s never just been a phase, a genre, or something I happened to like.

Looking back, anime wasn’t just part of my childhood. It quietly became the thread that connected my comfort, creativity, and identity, shaping who I am even before I realized it.

What about you?

Did any anime quietly shape your childhood too? I’d love to hear which series stayed with you as you grew up, or which anime made you realize how special this medium is.