Cycle I: Coming on Strong
The Hidden Voice
Record ~ Kawaii · 02 (v1.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan
♡ CHAI — N.E.O.
OPENING: 見てほしいだけ？
Pick me!
…
Oh.
That sounded a little desperate.
Especially considering I haven’t decided whether I’d pick you.
What an embarrassing way to start a conversation.
Apparently, meeting people comes with auditions now.
Everybody has a photograph, a little introduction, and a few carefully selected details about themselves.
Make a good impression!
Okay!
Which one?
The thoughtful one?
The confident one?
The one who’s effortlessly charming and always knows exactly what to say?
I don’t think I have that last one.
I could pretend.
But then I’d have to remember to keep pretending.
…
Exhausting!
And for what?
To impress somebody I haven’t even decided I want to talk to?
Hmm.
Something about this arrangement seems a little unfair.
Some people barely have to show up before everybody notices them.
Others can put enormous effort into making themselves interesting and still end up overlooked.
And nobody seems to agree on what makes somebody worth noticing in the first place.
Which reminds me…
Have you ever looked at a peacock?
All those beautiful feathers!
Such confidence!
Such extraordinary dedication to making absolutely certain everybody knows you’re there!
Magnificent!
＼(≧▽≦)／
I wouldn’t mind having feathers like that.
Imagine being able to unfold an entire colorful display whenever you wanted somebody’s attention.
Of course, I’d probably get distracted admiring them myself.
Oh, they’re lovely.
What were we talking about?
Right.
People.
The trouble with feathers is that they’re very good at getting noticed.
They’re considerably less helpful when you’re trying to figure out what somebody is actually like.
And that’s what makes meeting people so peculiar.
We’re trying to impress each other before we’ve even decided what makes somebody interesting.
It’s almost as though we’re competing to become somebody’s favorite.
Favorite what?
Person?
Conversation partner?
Interesting stranger?
I haven’t even seen the job description!
And if there is one, I suspect everybody received a different copy.
Some people want confidence.
Others want somebody gentle and easygoing.
Somebody might find an unusual interest fascinating, while someone else thinks it’s completely ridiculous.
How am I supposed to prepare for all of that?
Oh!
I know.
I’ll become exactly what everybody wants.
Perfect!
…
Except everybody wants something different.
(＠_＠;)
That’s going to be difficult.
Actually, that sounds like a terrible idea.
I’d spend so much time adjusting myself for other people that I wouldn’t have much time left to be myself.
And I happen to enjoy being myself.
Still, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to make a good impression.
I like it when somebody makes an effort.
A thoughtful introduction can be lovely.
And if somebody has something interesting to share, I’d certainly rather they tell me than expect me to guess.
But there’s a difference between choosing which parts of yourself to introduce and inventing somebody more impressive to introduce instead.
What happens when somebody likes the version you invented?
Are you going to keep pretending?
For how long?
Oh dear.
That could become quite a commitment.
Which is funny, because commitment is one of those things people seem to want without always agreeing on what it means.
It’s a very impressive word.
You can put it in an introduction and sound wonderfully dependable.
But how would somebody know whether you meant it?
You can’t exactly photograph commitment.
Well…
I suppose you could photograph somebody being dependable.
There they are.
Standing around.
Being very dependable.
Riveting!
ʕ¬ᴥ¬ʔ
I’m sure everybody will be fighting for a closer look.
But the things that make somebody worth knowing aren’t necessarily the things that make them exciting to look at.
That’s what interests me.
Confidence can be attractive.
I like somebody who knows what they think.
But somebody who never admits they’re wrong might look confident, too.
And experience?
That’s another interesting one.
Somebody can have plenty of experience and still make the same mistakes.
Repeatedly.
With increasing confidence!
Impressive!
Although perhaps not in the way they intended.
I’d rather know what somebody has learned.
Whether they can recognize when something isn’t working.
Whether they’re willing to reconsider an opinion.
I couldn’t imagine insisting I’d been right about absolutely everything.
I’d run out of things to be curious about.
Besides, I’ve been wrong before.
Occasionally.
…
Fine.
More than occasionally.
But I like discovering that something I thought I understood is actually a little more complicated.
Even if it’s inconvenient.
And commitment?
I think I’d want to know whether somebody means what they say.
Not because they need to make enormous promises the moment we meet.
That would be rather alarming.
Hello!
I am prepared to be dependable for the rest of eternity!
Σ(°ロ°)
…
Could we perhaps start with a conversation?
But if somebody eventually makes a promise, I’d like to know it means something.
If they say they’re interested, I’d like their behavior to make sense alongside that.
And if they change their mind, I’d rather they tell me.
I don’t think those things are particularly exciting to advertise.
They’re just important.
I won’t find out whether somebody keeps their word from an introduction.
I have to give people a chance to show me.
Which means they have to give me a chance, too.
If I want somebody to listen to me, I should probably be willing to listen to them.
I ought to be honest and make an effort, too.
And there’s something else I don’t particularly like about treating people as competitors.
It makes getting chosen seem like the most important part.
As though the whole point is to collect enough attention to prove you’re worth something.
I understand why that might feel nice.
I certainly enjoy being appreciated!
But imagine getting exactly what you wanted.
You make the perfect impression.
Everybody notices.
Somebody finally chooses you.
Hooray!
٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
…
Wait.
Do I like them?
Because I seem to have forgotten to find that out.
They might think they’ve found somebody wonderful.
I’ve been concentrating on getting the part without finding out whether I’d enjoy playing it.
Oops.
Besides, I’m not a prize.
A prize doesn’t get to decide whether it likes the winner.
…
I do!
( •̀ᴗ•́ )و
And it works the other way, too.
Somebody might think I’m wonderful.
They might find me funny, interesting, and absolutely delightful.
I’d be flattered.
But they might discover something about me they don’t like.
Maybe we disagree about something important.
Or perhaps we’re simply not the kind of people who enjoy each other’s company.
That’s allowed.
I don’t have to become somebody else to change their mind.
And they don’t have to become somebody else to change mine.
What a relief!
Although I suppose that means I won’t win everybody’s approval.
Oh, well!
I’d rather spend my time getting to know somebody who actually interests me.
Somebody I can enjoy talking to without wondering whether every conversation is another opportunity to be judged.
And I’d like them to feel comfortable being themselves around me.
Even when they aren’t being especially impressive.
I might like something they hadn’t even thought to show me.
Which brings me back to those peacocks.
I still admire the feathers.
They’re beautiful!
And I wouldn’t tell somebody to hide something wonderful about themselves just because it attracts attention.
Show me what you’re excited about.
Tell me what makes you interesting.
I’ll probably have questions.
Quite a few, actually.
But once you’ve finished showing me all those beautiful feathers…
I’d like to know who’s underneath them.
And you should be interested in knowing who’s looking at them, too.
Otherwise, what’s the point?
You can have an audience without having a connection.
People can admire you without knowing you.
And you might be so pleased they’re looking that you forget to look back.
So I’ve changed my mind.
Pick me!
…
No.
That’s not quite what I want to say.
I’d rather find out whether there’s something we both want.
Something worth continuing after the feathers have been folded away.
Because I don’t really want an audience.
I’d rather have a conversation.
ENDING: Do I just want to be noticed?