The Introverted Intonations Of An Anxious Act (Bocchi The Rock)

But the right words never come

It all comes out silly-dumb

And all the things I need to say

And all the big words seem to stay

On the inside

On the inside

Hi, welcome to 2025! I'm Frezno Inferno, and I am an incredibly anxious person and an introvert.

This is important information to know up front before I get into analyzing this here Japanese cartoon. In a lot of ways, this post is an opening up of my very soul for you all to read, and more so than usual. I have to do it in order to properly convey just what it is about the show that resonates with me. I have also chosen to attempt to add a little brevity to this writeup and just do it all in one reasonable shot, rather than a 10,000 word affair where I go over everything that happened in it. In the first place, the structure of the show doesn't really allow for that. More than that, opening myself up to that degree for that length would destroy me. Let's not do that. Let's instead open up about that anxious introversion, what I deal with, and define myself a little before we truly begin. I have to transmute myself into a fucking tuning fork so that you can hear how I and the show resonate. Weird metaphor, I know, but let us commence.

So. I'm an anxious introvert. What does that mean? It means I live a bit of a sheltered existence and prefer to keep to myself in the day to day, as far as physicality goes. Here on the magical World Wide Web I can blossom a bit, as I am doing right now with writing words, but in the outside world I just like to stay in and vibe with whatever. I am not so socially anxious as to be like, an agoraphobe who can't talk with other human beings, but I do have a very low charge on my social battery. An hour or two of being in a social situation with family or family friends, and I will be wishing to get out of it and go back to my seclusion where I can hang out all on my own and be introspective or see what's happening in the world of the online. No, my anxious tendencies come in the form of occasional bouts of irrational worry and fear about myself and how I am perceived. Rationally, I know these thoughts are not true. I know that I am not walking on eggshells constantly, one faux pas away from those who I think of as friends deciding to wash their hands of me completely and abandon me for good, the experiment of being friends with Frezno Inferno a resounding failure. I know that when they are busy, I am not being deliberately excluded. Rationally, I know this. In the throes of feeling anxious, that rational thought does nothing. Anxious thoughts are an irrational little goblin bouncing about in your brain, making you feel like shit and amplifying every little thing into the worst-case scenario, a thousand dark fantasies of being abandoned or told off flooding your mind with their intrusive thoughts. A good night's sleep usually is enough to clear me up, along with clear words of encouragement and support from those I care for. It does not happen often, but it happens more often than I would like it to, and it is a struggle I must endure from time to time.

There I am. All that anxious ichor exorcised and given form for the world to see, a Frezno Inferno-shaped ball of dripping protoplasm giving off its cursed aura. That is what lurks within me. That is what I live with. That, friends, is why I had such a strong resonant reaction to the show we are talking about today: Bocchi The Rock. It is a show about all of those things, about a mess of a human being struggling to keep it together under even more intrusive anxiety and intense introverted loneliness than even I know. Some of it is, as we will discuss, exaggerated for comedic effect. Nevertheless, I feel a resonant realness with the protagonist of this show, and relate to her. Even better, unlike other hollow pursuits I do not have the time to tear down today, the show and the people within it treat this anxious mess with a certain dignity and grace. The show, its protagonists, and what it is about all hit me on a deep and fundamental level, and in explaining what it is to you I hope to find an explanation for why that is.

Let's start as we have so often before. Let's talk about the girl. Here she is. Hitori Gotoh, 15 years old. A Japanese girl just starting high school, an extremely anxious and introverted nervous fucking wreck. She has a passion, and that passion is playing the guitar. She gained it by catching an interview one day where a member of a band mentioned that music helped him overcome anxiety and loneliness and make good school memories. Over her middle school years she gets quite good at it, and she hopes to parlay that into making friends and playing at school festival. This does not happen; she is too anxious to approach anyone, and nobody approaches her. Here she is, just starting high school, and the golden years of her life are slipping away. She has a following on social media, a Youtube account called "guitarhero" where she plays for the camera and gets accolades from commenters on how good she is, but none in real life know she can play. Then, one day, she is approached and asked to play for a band in a pinch. She meets people, becomes a part of the band, makes friends, and manages all of this while also managing her incredibly crippling anxiety and introversion.

That's the setup of the show. So, why does it hit with me? Why is it so relatable? For starters, what it does with the notion of anxiety and those horribly intrusive thoughts. There's a moment early on (and it might be here on the side) where Hitori remembers cringe thoughts from her middle school years and bangs her head while yelling "BEGONE, FILTHY MEMORIES!". Fuck! I do that! Far more often than I want to admit, I will remember some absolute bit of foot in mouth buffoonery from 20 fucking years ago, which nobody involved probably even remembers any more if they even remember me to begin with, and I will bang my fist on a couch and let out a little yell to banish those thoughts. That's so fucking relatable! More relatable, even, are Hitori's anxious freakouts. At least twice an episode Hitori will have a little anxious fantasy where she is imagining the worst: her bandmates instantly abandoning her because she's not extroverted enough, or being literally burned at the stake because she's not a team player in school festivals. These are some of the strongest parts of the series visually, as they play around with the animation and go into wildly different styles or even mediums. More to the point, I relate to all of this! This is what it fucking feels like when my brain is eating itself alive with paranoid worry! It's exaggerated for comic effect in the Japanese cartoon show, yes, but they get it! They fucking get it, and it's right here on the screen for all to see!

More to the point, and this may be more a subjective thing than anything because I relate to her so much, it never feels like Hitori is the butt of the joke. The anxiety is, and it's not a situation where we laugh at her for being an anxious dumbass. We (or at least I) laugh at how ridiculous the anxiety is. When you think about it for a bit, it's kind of hilarious. Your own thoughts go into overdrive and threaten to eat you alive. It's a dark humor, but one that the show gives enough empathy to such that we can laugh at the sheer surrealist absurdity of it. She reacts to the thought of being an extroverted social media poster by glitching out into a smear of animation, pterodactyl screeching in anxious concern, and imagining herself as a giant attention whore kaiju. This show is fucking ridiculous! Anxiety is fucking ridiculous! As much as it pokes fun at such things, and as much as our anxious protagonist will freak out, at the end of the day the show knows to put its empathy in the right place. It knows how to soothe and calm those fears, and dissuade them. Hitori's friends do care for her well-being, do want her to live and thrive, and do want her to be happy. There are a handful of points during the show's run where we see them all together while Hitori is elsewhere. A lesser show might have them groan and gripe about how much of a handful Hitori and her anxiety are, complaints that they'd never say to her face of course but are still genuinely held ones (and ones that would, oh say, completely set off any anxious persons who might be watching. But I promised not to get into that.) by each of them. That's not the case. They worry about whether or not they're pushing her too far out of her comfort zone. They talk about how much she has grown, and how much they genuinely like her and only want the best for her. They're good friends, and they actually do care. Words that any anxious person wants to hear, needs to hear in the midst of brain goblins doing all they can to convince you otherwise.

In a way, Hitori's friends are not really all that different from her. Yes, there's a bit of a difference between how well they all function in social situations, but there are many similarities shared between them. The first friend she makes, the drummer Nijika Ijichi, is on the surface a very upbeat and cheerful person but also has this deep introspective interiority about music, live houses, and wanting to share the joy of sound with the world. Ryo Yamada, the stoic bassist, is more introverted like Hitori and thus the pair can connect on that level. Even someone who should be Hitori's total opposite, the extremely extroverted Kita Ikuyo, has more in common with her. Hitori is extremely socially inept but a pro at the guitar. Kita is as bright as a shining star when it comes to the social, but is still not all that great at playing the guitar. It's Hitori who ends up giving Kita lessons, and the two of them each help improve the other where they are lacking: as Hitori helps Kita get better at guitar, Kita helps Hitori get better at socializing and trusting in her new friends. These four girls, the members of Kessoku Band, form a lasting connection and it's just lovely to see it blossom over the runtime of the series.

It's not just Hitori's peers who want what's best for her and help her become a better person with less self-doubt, though. There are mentors, older people who see something in this girl and help her to overcome those anxious fears by just a little. You have Seika Ijichi, for one. She runs the live house Starry where the girls play, and is also Nijika's older sister. I really like Seika, and through her interactions with Hitori along with helping the band spread their wings by giving them a venue with with to express themselves, you get a sense of someone who puts up a bit of a wall but actually does have a softer caring side to her. The bigger mentor figure, though, is a very strange one. Buckle up, because I get to talk to you about Hiroi Kikuri. Episode 6 of the show is focused entirely on Hitori's strange misdventure with this woman. At this point in the series, Hitori has an anxious conundrum on her hands: the band has auditioned to Seika for a chance to play at Starry, worked very hard at practice, and proved themselves to her. Unfortunately to pay for the cover fee, each band member has to sell five tickets to the show... and Hitori is an introverted anxious mess who has no friends. In the midst of freaking out over this in a whole other prefecture, her brain goblins concocting scenarios where she can't sell the tickets and the band immediately kicks her to the curb, in wanders Hiroi Kikuri... the drunken sage herself.

Hiroi is an older woman, a bassist in a popular indie band, and also a raging alcoholic. She has a never-ending nonchalant laissez-faire attitude because, again, she is constantly drunk as a fucking skunk. Despite this, she proves to be an inspiration to Hitori in multiple ways. There's a big one at the end of the show, but for this episode's purpose Hiroi orchestrates an impromptu street performance to show off Hitori's guitar skills and help sell her tickets. In the midst of it all, she gives the anxious Hitori some sage advice: the crowd is not her enemy. Up to this point, Hitori lacked the ability to perform in front of a crowd without hiding in a cardboard box due to her anxious fears. Hiroi helps to assuage them, and as Hitori looks up she sees a crowd of people just... enjoying the guitar play. Not her enemies. Her fans. Two even cheer her on, the same two who will buy two tickets to the Starry show as Hiroi takes the third remaining one. All of this happens, by the way, as the rest of the band practice while worrying about not hearing back from Hitori, and wondering if they've been pushing her too far. It's a masterful episode in which everyone involves cares deeply for Hitori and only wants the best for her. I have people like that in my life too. No, not drunks. I mean people who I look up to, who I consider mentors in my field of creative choice. Hitori and friends chose music, and I chose the written word, and I have people like Hiroi in my life. People who are older and more accomplished than me, but who still give me the time of day. Who still want to see me flourish and grow and consistently improve my ability to express myself and talk about the things which are important to me. People who call me a friend, and I am proud to call a friend right back. As they inspire me, I can only hope and dream to inspire them.

That's the other element of this show which hits me strongly. It's not just about me relating to the anxious blob who continually has love and support from her peers and mentors. It's the fact that this is a show about a bunch of amateurs attempting to creatively express themselves, continually practicing and honing their skills in order to get better at doing just that, at putting themselves out there, at making their voices heard. For the girls of Kessoku Band, this involves practicing playing their musical instruments and songwriting and whatnot. For me, it's the act of writing. It's all the same, all the way down. There's this wonderful theme of self-expression happening in the show, and it affects me deeply. I'm jamming with it right now, trying to express how much these 12 episodes mean to me and why they just hit right here in the heart and soul. I would like to think I am doing a good job, and that the right words are coming out. It can be difficult at times. Being an introvert and being anxious, there's this constant nagging sense that by speaking I am committing a social taboo. That I should shut the fuck up and let the people who matter speak. Another bullshit brain goblin. What I have to say does matter, and there is someone here reading these words right now and it is mattering to you now, right at this second. We have a connection across time, you and I. I am writing here in the past, and you are reading in what is my future and your present. We're joined, you and I, and I thank you for allowing my words to touch you like that. They truly do come from the heart. Let me tell you how Hitori expresses herself.

In one of the early episodes, Hitori is asked to write the lyrics for Kessoku Band's first original song. Naturally, this leads to anxious panic. As a lonely little anxious mess, Hitori feels pressure to not write a song that will be depressing and reflect her own mental state, and so forces herself to write a more peppy and upbeat song that will fit their lead vocalist Kita. Ryo is writing the actual music, and so when she takes a look at the lyrics she asks Hitori a simple question: Are these the lyrics you want to write? More upbeat lyrics may have a greater appeal, but they're not truly Hitori's words. She wants Hitori to express herself, to make her voice be known. Because she is a part of their group. Because they are her friends. Because they care. Hitori does it over, and the lyrics are a little more melancholy, but the girls are down for it. As Ryo says: ""Not many people may relate, but for those that it does, it will hit very deeply." The song ends up being the one they audition with Seika for, the song which gets them a little setlist at Starry. To hell with it. Let's put it here. In the name of brevity I'm not going to analyze the lyrics, but I want Hitori's lyrics to be witnessed. Because I am one of those few for whom it hits deeply. So, then. Here is the song she wrote. Here is "Guitar, Loneliness, And The Blue Planet".

It is a thing of beauty, an anxious melancholy shouted out into the world with the desperate need to be heard, as a symphony of electric guitars and bass and drum beats scream out along with it. This theme of making yourself be heard, in more ways than just paying attention to the band, comes to the forefront at the Starry concert the girls get to play in episode 8. At first the majority of the crowd could not give less of a shit about these kids playing rock band, and they're just head down in their phones. They're not listening. The girls are pouring their hearts out to deaf ears, and it hurts. I know that melancholy well: it's not as if this blog is popular or anything. Still, you have made it this far in the words. You're listening to me, and I'm pouring my own heart out about what this dumb band show does to me. I'm jamming and making my voice heard, and that's just what the girls do. Hitori boldly self-expresses, right there on stage, with a killer solo. The other girls step up and put their hearts and souls in their performance as well. By the end of it, those people who were on their phones are paying attention. They've taken notice, they've heard the song in Kessoku Band's heart, and they are somewhat impressed. "Hey, they're not bad". That's all we amateurs live for. To have our voices heard, and to get a nice little bit of feedback, and we hope and pray that it's a "Hey, that wasn't half bad".

Our voices can be bolstered and changed by our inspirations and mentors. Watching someone who you look up to, like a friend or mentor, as they show their own finely honed craft in expressing themselves, can supercharge you in your own creative endeavors. It can make you better by being around them, by listening, by opening your eyes and seeing. Such is the case an episode later, when after their successful show the girls get an invite from Hiroi to see her band play. The scene that plays out is truly stunning, a kaleidoscope of psychedelic imagery washing over us and Hitori as Hiroi and her band belt out an acid rock banger, and Hitori is in awe at how this otherwise drunken goddamn mess is able to command such a confident presence on the stage with her performance and her bandmates. This is inspiration. Hitori feels it watching Hiroi bring the house down with her stage persona, and I feel it when watching people who I frankly think are better than me at this whole writing thing (but will probably still say nice things about these words, if they make it all the way through!) let loose on the page. Here is the blank page, here are the words, they come straight from the heart and mind and are perfectly arranged to evoke the right feeling. 

Eventually, we have to hit the climax. We have to show just how much Hitori Gotoh has grown and learned from her friends, her mentors, and her experiences in reaching out of her introverted shell. The climax of the show has her living out her dream in middle school, and playing with her band at her school's culture festival. Despite her exaggerated fantasies about festivals and the amount of extroversion they require (and a few more instances in the moment of being an anxious mess), Hitori actually does have fun with her friends at the festival. Why, it's almost as if those anxious fantasies of assuming the worst are a bunch of bullshit brain goblins with no basis in reality! Almost. A thing does go wrong at the festival, live on stage. Hitori's guitar, which was an old hand-me-down from her father, breaks a string in the middle of the second song just minutes before Hitori's guitar solo is coming up. Oh no! For once, something legitimate to be anxious about. Here she is, live on stage and already battling her anxiety to stand there in front of dozens and dozens, and it's all going wrong. What does she do?

She freestyles, and takes inspiration from her mentor. Hiroi is right there by the stage, and being just a raging alcoholic she has brought adult beverages. Hitori takes an empty, slips it over her finger, and starts bottlenecking. It's an improvisational bit of self-expression, a on the fly change in the plan and the practice... but it works. It works, and Hitori never could have done it without making that connection with this drunk weirdo who nevertheless inspires and encourages her. The Hitori of episode 1 could not have done this. She could not have gotten on stage in front of other people, could not have played in harmony with this band, could not have used one of her mentor's foundational personality traits in order to solve her problem. This is the culmination of the show for me, the ultimate form of self-expression for Hitori, in front of practically her whole school as well as all the people who have helped her along on this point. More than that, she's helped them. Kita is better at guitar because of her. Nijika's dreams of being in a successful band are thriving due to her. Ryo's strength as a songwriter and inspirational introvert has been bolstered due to her. The lives she's touched have gone on to touch others, and their music has gone on to touch even more than that. The end of the final episode sees Hitori buying her very own guitar, using ad revenue she never even knew she was getting from her old Youtube channel to do so. It's hers now, a marker of her own expression, a part of her that's no longer hidden inside. It's out there for all to see and hear, and to help inspire others with her music. What a lovely bit of growth for Hitori.

That's Bocchi The Rock. A weird little show about an anxious gremlin blob who, despite everything, is loved and cared for and gets to thrive. She gets to have her voice be heard, get her thoughts out there, and become just a little better for it while also making others a little better for it. I hope I have been able to properly convey why that means so damn much to me, and why I resonate with it. If I haven't, I'll spell it out as like a thesis statement or something. She's me. Hitori is me. We have our differences, but our similarities are there. We're both incredibly anxious and introverted, and yet we have friends who care. We have mentors who constantly inspire us and urge us to be the best versions of ourselves we can be. We're both creatives, she with music and I with words, who want nothing more than to express how the world makes us feel and how our creativity changes us. Finally, if I may be so bold, we're both people who inspire those same positive feelings in those we are blessed enough to call our friends and mentors, living in harmony with them and mutually making all our lives just that little bit better for being there. That's Hitori Gotoh. That's me, Frezno Inferno. That's why Bocchi The Rock means so much to me. 

I'll leave off with one final bit of proof that we're alike, one last gift from one of those friends and inspirations. There's a scene early on in the show when Hitori is trying to get out of having to work at Starry and deal with other people in a social setting by deliberately trying to get sick. The method she chooses to do this is taking a bath in ice cold water, and her dead-eyed stare as she's freezing to death in this tub became a bit of a reaction image for me, to any sort of news or meme or what have you which exasperated me. One of my podcast pals, Kuchiri, noticed I used it so much that he commissioned an artist to redraw it with me in the bathtub instead. That's how we close this off. With a bit of meme mirroring. I'll be seeing you for whatever comes next, and I hope you understood me a little more with this.