#almostwisegalaxy

Poem

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Okay Guy's . New aesthetics. New concept. this is me, giving you what a song feels like inside my body. through words, moods, grief, hope — whatever spills out.

first one below. read it slowly. feel it if you can.

Theme: The Intoxication of a Ray of Sweetness

Masterlist of this Concept

The song we're going to dissect today :

The visual of sound.......................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Emotion that sound gives off.......* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

There are nights when even breathing feels too loud.

You're lying there, in that room that no longer feels like yours. Bare feet on a cold floor, breath caught on Mari Froes’s voice. The guitar holds you like a trembling hand — the kind no one ever gave you, or gave too late.

Gabriela doesn’t tell your story. It whispers what you stopped saying out loud: the need to feel free, just once, without having to pay for it.

You close your eyes. Imagine another version of yourself. One that isn't shattered. Not at the edge. Someone who wakes up without gathering the pieces. Someone they didn’t force to grow up too soon.

A life where you don’t have to fake being okay just so people leave you alone.

In that version — the one you half-create just to survive — you move slowly. You laugh. Like, really laugh. You’re not someone’s emotional void-filler. You’re someone that matters. You hold a hand, and no one lets go. You don’t hurt yourself just to feel seen. You don’t fake joy to be left in peace.

And still… deep in your chest, something clings.

The will to heal. To love. To start over. To exist for real — not in a dream, but here. Now.

Because with this song playing, you remember:

Even broken pieces can dance.

Masterlist of this Concept

Theme : Tonight, the Stars Don't Look Like Stars. They Look Like You

The song we're going to dissect today :

The visual of sound.......................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Emotion that sound gives off.......* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

You sat on the roof, just like before, when everything still seemed to be holding together. A photo found at the bottom of a box — their face still young, still close, still yours. You thought you'd forgotten.

You're a good liar.

And the stars. Those damned shining points, looking blurry at you. Because of tears, or the memory. You no longer know. You stumbled upon their photo in a box too heavy to be forgotten. Downstairs, in that old cupboard you never open. And you had the misfortune of keeping it.Still.

Do you know what you told yourself? They touched you like you'd flip through a book you never had the courage to finish. Not for lack of interest. For cowardice. They were that book you didn't understand but felt was important. So you put it down. And you walked away. Like a coward.

Their fingers on your neck, light. As if they held something. A constellation. A farewell.

You still remember that kiss. The one that killed you. Their mouth on yours, slow, soft, but held back. As if they were kissing you already knowing it would be the last time. Their lips tasted of the salt of your doubts. Their hands slid over you as if you were just a passage. A stopover. Not a destination.

You remember the kitchen. The sticky tiles, the yellow light. Your laughter in the middle of the night. It was chaos. And yet, everything was exactly in its place. Your laughter, standing in that kitchen, between the grinding fridge and the spilled water glasses. The floor was sticky. The glasses were stacked. It was ugly. It was perfect.

Today, they sometimes drive by your place. Never stopping. But they slow down. You see it. And your heart tightens. You want to scream at them, tell them they destroyed you. You want to hit them, hold them close, kiss them until you forget everything else. You hurt. It's physical. Visceral. Like a burn under your skin. You feel like your heart never truly started beating again.

You no longer know if it's love or rage. But it's always them.

Their scent lingers in the pillow. You still bury your face in it sometimes. And you breathe. Hard. Too hard. As if swallowing it would bring a little of them back. As if, with a bit of luck, they would return.

But nothing returns.

And tonight, on that roof… you think of "Constellations" by Jade LeMac. And it's them you trace in the sky.

Still.

Always.

💭 How about a little Q&A around Weak Hero Class ? shall we?

Ask me anything — questions about the characters,

🔮their hidden thoughts,

🎭alternative scenes,

😈their worst secret, their cute sin or even my inspirations.

Or even better...

🌝A discussion between the actors and the characters. What they think of them ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠).

Nothing's too weird — I keep everything in notes 🖋️

→ Send your ideas In the comments of this post 🌌

Don't be shy. Go for it.

You might be surprised by what I'll create with your ideas ヾ⁠(⁠ ͝⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ノ⁠♪

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If you have any ideas use this emoji : 🖋️

My body remembers this song 🕯️

Sometimes a song hits deeper than memory.

It opens a door to something unspoken — a version of you, real or imagined.

So I’m writing them. One by one.

What they feel like in my skin, in my silence, in my dreams.

Start of this project: Sat, July 5th - ???

So check back every Saturday and Wednesday for new posts

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🎧. Mari Froes - Gabriela | A COLORS SHOW

🎧..Jade LeMac - Constellations

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Okay

So. i’ve got 500 people following me here. and honestly ? it still feels like i’m screaming into a void most days. So I want to do some more.

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New thing I’m trying 🕯️

Sometimes, I hear a song and it clings to me like a memory I’ve never lived.

So I’m starting something new here: It's called

"My body remembers this song "🕯️

I’ll share a song with you — something soft, brutal, nostalgic, or strange —

and I’ll show you what it makes me feel. Through words. Through images. Through whatever spills out of me.

Maybe it’ll echo something in you too. Maybe you’ll want to share your own visions in return.

First one’s coming soon. Hope you like the sound of it 🤍

Stay awake