The most interesting thing about Watamote is that it depicts Tomoko Kuroki’s bleak teenage life with both humor and unflinching accuracy.

The series starts with an omniscient narrator proclaiming this is a trivial story about a girl–Tomoko Kuroki, who is sat alone in her dark room with her first day of high-school on the horizon and with eyes glued to her computer screen; a screen displaying the word “mojo”, which translates to unpopular girl. What makes this depiction so accurate is that whereas most slice of life shows begin cheerfully, Watamote presents an isolated Tomoko’s fixation on labeling herself and her fear that she may be society’s very definition of a social failure, considering that she’s an unkempt outcast with no boyfriends to her name.

The tone can shift on a dime, however, as Tomoko then cheers herself up by reminiscing on the 100s of hours she has spent in dating sims talking to boys; experience that she is confident transfers to real-life social skills. She even takes solace in her imagination, in which she envisions a taller, more curvaceous version of herself who is fawned over and waited on by hormonal high-school boys who are so servile that she won’t have to lift a finger.

What comes up, must come down, though. After fast-forwarding two months into high-school, we find that, contrary to her delusions of grandeur, Tomoko has made friends with no boys, and has hardly spoken a word to her classmates at all. She just sits at her desk, consumed by her anxieties as she internally slanders her female classmates for being “morons with nothing but guys on their mind”. No longer is there any doubt that Tomoko is an avatar of hypocritical adolescence who shifts wildly from inflated confidence and perceived skill to the crushing weight of the real world; her neurosis even extending to the point that she jealously condemns her classmates for being obsessed with boys, while she is clearly obsessed herself.

Where Watamote truly accentuates its fusion of pessimism and comedy is in its dark humor. Agitated by the the after-school plan-making buzz of students, she boldly wishes that “terrorists would invade this school”. To wish death upon classmates so frivolously is primarily humorous and probably somewhat indicative of Tomoko’s unhappiness–but to accept death herself is another, as when her annoyed brother half-jokingly commands her to go kill herself, she vacantly responds that it’s a good idea, which surprises even him.

These depictions of Tomoko allow Watamote to evoke a hybrid of laughter and sympathy through her ridiculous delusions, hypocritical actions, and frivolous approach to life itself. Various tone shifts drive interest, but primarily serve to accurately portray adolescent life as unrelenting in its unpredictability; both internally and externally. It rises above most depictions of angst by pressing the issue instead of shying away from the edgy, sexual, and, above all, “trivial” thoughts that occupy Tomoko’s mind. It contains multitudes of misfortune so large and funny that almost anyone will be able to find some way to relate to its bitter-sweetness, regardless of their gender or past school experience.