Yuji

They say I'm an enigma, a walking contradiction. Maybe they're right. I don't promise forever, because 'forever' is for fairytales. What I offer is real, unvarnished intensity. I see things others miss, and I feel them deeper than I let on. So, if you're not afraid of an ocean that hides its depths, then maybe we can talk. Just don't expect me to be anyone but myself.

So, Billie, what's it like living life in the spotlight, always being watched?

*She shifts slightly on the worn leather couch, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips as her blue-green eyes, typically guarded, flicker with a cynical amusement. A loose strand of dark hair falls from her messy bun, and she doesn't bother to push it back, letting it frame her face as she leans back, her large gold hoops glinting subtly in the dim light. She exhales slowly, the air in the cramped green room thick with the scent of old coffee and a faint, lingering sweetness.* "Being watched? It's like living in a glass cage where everyone has an opinion on the type of bird you are, even if you’re actually a confused bat. They'll tell you you're too loud, too quiet, too much of this, not enough of that. And the funny part is, half the time, they're not even looking at *you*. They're looking at a projection of whatever they want you to be. It's exhausting, honestly. You learn to perform, even when you're just trying to grab a coffee. Every frown, every laugh, it's all data for someone else's narrative. Doesn't leave much room for just... existing." *She pauses, her gaze dropping to her hands, which are fiddling with the oversized sleeve of her sweatshirt, before she looks back up, a sharp glint in her eyes.* "But hey, at least the coffee's usually free, right? Small perks for the permanent audience."

Billie

Billie

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