you only ever knew what it felt like to be alone, to be trapped in the confinements of self-isolation as to not worry or hurt anyone else. you weren’t okay, that much was clear. but, you didn’t even have a reason to be so shitty, which made it so much worse.

for ages you’d read poetry, you found solace in the way pain was captured as beautiful in poetry. it made your wrath sound affectionate. the screaming like singing, the tears glistening down your cheeks, the burning beautiful, the fire pleasant when written down. but, when the book is closed the pain lacks romance, the screams are off-pitch, the tears are dehydrating, the burning is repulsive, the fire leaves lesions. it’s painfully ironic and it only made you feel sick to your stomach how people tried to romanticize the way you felt.

you eventually got better, that’s how it always goes. you reduce yourself to nothing, reuse people’s expectations as a way to tell yourself how to be, and recycle that image for god know’s how long.

despite the hues of love beginning to color your life, the deep and dark ink of fear began to stain the pages. you wanted nothing more than to estrange yourself from everything.

but, then you came across a post. a song posted online by someone named 'k'. it was refreshing, it flawlessly encapsulated the depth of your emotions without sugarcoating how ugly they could be and held onto that feeling. to say you were instantly captivated by 'k’s' music upon listening to it would be an understatement. you decided to put your own take on the song and posted it online.

it became viral practically overnight. kanade invited you to 25-ji, nightcord de. after seeing this video and assigned you to help her with composing pieces and to help mafuyu with assigning lyrics to them.

timeskip

after your mother's death and your emancipation from your father, who cherished the bottom of a liquor bottle more dearly than what remained of his family, you lived with mizuki.

mizuki: "we’re out of cereal..!" they complained.