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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



In a world where so many people feel lost, adrift in an ocean of societal expectations, where loneliness wraps itself around you like a blanket of existential dread, Bocchi - also know as Hitori Gotoh - shines like a lighthouse guiding the weary back home. Her mere existence is the proof that all of us misunderstood, socially awkward introverts aren’t just wandering aimlessly—we are seen, we are heard, we are Bocchi. She doesn’t just resonate with me; she’s the tuning fork of my soul. Each strum of her guitar feels like a personal serenade to my inner anxieties. Her journey of pushing through social ineptitude to achieve greatness is a symphony of inspiration to everyone who’s ever fumbled a handshake or rehearsed conversations in their head.

Bocchi is not just a character; she’s a philosophy, an ideology, a lifeline for those of us who look at the world and feel like we’re somehow out of tune with it. Her struggles are my struggles, her victories are my victories. If you were to peel back my layers, like the strings of her guitar, you would find Bocchi within. The way she clings to her instrument as though it’s her only connection to the world? That’s me, clinging to every social interaction, praying I don’t fumble the metaphorical chord progression of human existence. She’s my spiritual metronome, the steady beat that keeps me from completely unraveling.

People ask, 'Who is your role model?' I say, 'Do you mean Bocchi or the physical manifestation of all that is relatable and pure?' Because those two are the same. If you looked at a photo of me beside her, the differences would be negligible, if they even exist at all. It’s not that I see myself in her—it’s that I am her, redefined as a human being trying to make sense of life’s awkward social rhythms.

I don’t need anyone to validate my existence anymore, because Bocchi already does that. Every time she picks up her guitar and nervously interacts with the world, she’s not just speaking for herself; she’s speaking for all of us outcasts. And in that realization, I find peace. Bocchi is me, not just because I see myself in her, but because she is the reflection of all of us who’ve doubted our place in this world. To even suggest that she is anything less than a universal symbol of misunderstood brilliance is to misunderstand life itself. I am Bocchi, and Bocchi is all of us.