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🎵 Flashbacker - Kessoku Band 🎸
[🔊] ▶ 0:01 ◯▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 4:53

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♪ 1. Guitar, Loneliness and Blue Planet 3:49
♪ 2. Never Forget 3:37
♪ 3. That band 3:32
♪ 4. If I could be a constellation 4:14
♪ 5. Into the Light 4:19

The world is chaos—constantly moving, clashing, evolving. Since the birth of the universe, with its law of entropy, everything has led to this moment. Billions of years of cosmic formation, the right conditions for life on Earth, and millennia of human history, cultivated through war and struggle, have brought us here. As a species, we have always searched for meaning, trying to carve out our place in this vast, mysterious, and often unforgiving universe.

And here I am, confused, navigating life, weighed down by pain and uncertainties, questioning whether my struggles even matter in the end. At my lowest point, when everything seemed devoid of meaning, Bocchi appeared—like a lighthouse, guiding my weary soul back home, to a place where I felt I could belong.

Bocchi, or Hitori Gotoh, embodies the same struggles I face—the ones I thought no one could understand. Trapped by crippling social anxiety, she feels isolated, disconnected from the world around her. She longs for connection, but her anxiety creates walls that make every interaction feel insurmountable. Watching Bocchi the Rock is like looking into a mirror—I see myself in her every struggle, in every hesitation, in every moment of feeling overwhelmed by existing among others.

Bocchi is literally me. The way she experiences the contradiction of craving connection but finding it painfully out of reach because of her own mind—it’s something I know too well. Her overwhelming self-consciousness, her inability to communicate the way she wants, is something I relate to on the deepest level. Yet, despite her fear and the constant urge to retreat from the chaos of the world, she pushes forward. Even when everything inside her tells her to give up, she fights her inner turmoil, inching forward just to see if she can change something, even if it doesn't work out right away.

This is where Bocchi resonates with me most. She isn't just relatable in a “haha socially awkward, literally me fr” sense. It’s deeper. She never fully overcomes her struggles, but she grows in small, beautiful ways. She finds moments of connection, glimpses of validation, even as her anxiety remains ever-present. That’s where it clicks for me: her journey mirrors mine. We both feel unseen, unheard, and misunderstood by many, but we keep moving, keep trying, because there’s always something worth fighting for.

Bocchi embodies the duality I feel within myself—that tension between knowing we have unique strengths and talents, but being held back by internal struggles that make it hard to express them. Her story is not about grand success or perfection. It's about navigating the space between potential and self-doubt, between brilliance and anxiety. In her journey, I see mine—a path marked by contradictions, where I am both capable and overwhelmed, both fortunate and trapped.

Bocchi gives me strength and courage. When I face my own struggles, I know that like her, I am still moving forward, even when the odds feel stacked against me. In a world that often feels like it's throwing every obstacle in my way, Bocchi reminds me that even the smallest steps matter.