Mikau: Hello, hello! Thank you for coming back for chapter two! I'm so utterly thrilled that you guys liked chapter one! Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers: Guest, 908-03, Orange04, Chaoshift, LittleFan, Guest (*Blushes* Thank you so much!), FreeWeirdGal, Miss Emotion, and Shara Raizel! Like I said before, this one is a lot more personal, so it meant so much to me, you guys reassuring me that my feelings were valid and my writing wasn't horrible, so thank you again. This week I'm updating Falling in Love Literally and Just Passing Through. I've also got a new one called Unknown Isolation. It's kind of like this one with the HakuKai friendship and being in first person, but…in it I'm working really hard on description and setting. I think it's a fun read, a little different, and a lot more…fantastic/mystical maybe? Anyway. Give it a look if you like Hakuba and have some time. It's my entry for Poirot Café's competition "Alone". And now on with the show!

Disclaimer: If I owned this, I'd have wider readership and probably wouldn't have the guts to be this brutally honest.

…

Chapter Two: Mask

The following day, Wednesday, as soon as I got home from school, I sat down at my computer and published the first chapter.

And then I shut down the computer and forced myself to go for a brisk, March walk. A long one that would not allow me to check obsessively for reviews for at least another hour and a half.

I got lucky (?) and ran into a theft at one of the banks I passed, and so I did not return home until eight o'clock that evening. Baaya scolded me for failing to call home about being late for dinner, but then I dashed up to my room like a man possessed and booted up my computer, not so silently urging it on, pleading sweetly for it to display the page faster.

Three reviews. THREE reviews! I had three whole reviews!

I got up and did an embarrassing little dance that would have sent me packing to live in Antarctica with the penguins where no one would be able to find me should aforementioned dance ever get recorded and leaked to the general public.

But I was so happy! I hadn't even dared to hope that anyone would actually read my work, let alone review it! At worst, I feared that I'd receive all negative comments telling me that my work was crap and I needed to give up.

But this…THIS! Three reviews! I was on fire! And they were good reviews too. Two of them were the kind that Katsuragi-sensei had told me about. They said that they really liked where this was going, that they enjoyed the first chapter and were looking forward to chapter two.

The third review was from Mask.

I could feel my heart fluttering and all the saliva in my mouth drying up.

Oh, God. What if he hated it?! What if he laughed at me?! What if he turned up his nose and told me that I'd never make it as a writer?!

And then that blessed, reasonable part of my mind reminded me that I had never intended to become a writer in the first place. I was doing this at the behest of my therapist because she thought it would help me understand my feelings and function better in society. And Mask had seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He wouldn't purposefully say mean things to me. If he didn't like my work, he would be tactful at the very least. He had been so encouraging before. If he didn't have anything nice to say, perhaps his review would just read, "Hey, keep up the good work! Keep trying, and don't give up. You've got potential!"

Whatever he had to say, I could safely bet that it wouldn't be the confidence-shaking bomb that I feared. As always, I was simply worrying too much.

I scrolled down and read the review.

"Hey, Searching! Glad to see you posted! I can tell that you're still growing into your style as a writer, but this is seriously good! I love Jon, and the cops all are so thought out and well developed. I like that you really took your time with even the side characters. They're all very human, easy to relate to. Good job, man!

"I especially like Jon's investigations. Your descriptions of the crime scenes are spot on! You've either really done your research or you've had some experience with police work yourself. What? Fledgling cop? Or maybe you're like me and know someone. My uncle's an officer. Anyway, I really appreciated your attention to detail, and the mysteries you've written, Jon's deductions. They're all wicked awesome, super original. You really do have some talent.

"Well, now that I've gushed about how much I loved it and stroked your ego, I should probably offer some kind of useful advice. I mean, it doesn't help you improve at all if I just tell you that you're fabulous. I know you told me that you've been working on this for a while, so you've probably improved on your own since you first wrote this, so what I'm gonna say is probably irrelevant, but one thing I think you could do is use your other four senses more.

"What I mean is that you're telling me all about what Jon sees, what Jon does, and it's great. Your descriptions are wonderful, but what does Jon smell? What does he hear? Taste? Feel? Tell me about the sickening metallic scent of blood, the repugnant smell of sulfur in the air. Help me to hear the rain pounding on the windows like a lover begging to be taken back. Let me hear the last sputter of the engine as it dies. Use that big vocabulary of yours to make me taste the ash and the smoke on my tongue as the building burns to the ground around Jon. Please insert a scene where Jon eats pastries or something so that I can taste the rich flavors of dark chocolate blending with hints of caramel. Let me feel the rough edges of seashells mixed in with the granules of sand between my toes. Let me feel the cozy warmth of a roaring bonfire on a crisp night in late fall. Draw me further into Jon's world by using all of my senses.

"And kindly disregard everything I've just said if you've already started doing that. Good luck in the future! I look forward to reading chapter two real soon! –K. (aka: Mask)"

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so happy. A glowing review! And even his constructive criticism was absolutely wonderful! I could really tell that he valued the talent that I possessed and sincerely wanted me to improve for my own sake.

It truly meant a lot to me.

I replied to his review, thanking him earnestly and asked if he had any additional pointers on how I might tap into and utilize my other four senses. He got back to me within the hour, and we had a thrilling discussion well past eleven o'clock that night.

…

After that night, I only got two more reviews total. And not even in the same day. It was a little…disheartening, I'll admit, after getting three in the first few hours, but I consoled myself by rereading my previous reviews and focusing on getting chapter two ready to go.

I still refreshed the page obsessively for a day or two after that, but…well, no dice. I learned to be okay with that, though. I had still gotten five good reviews on the first chapter of my first work of fiction ever, so I reasoned that that was something to be proud of…after Mask had brought that fact to my attention.

Really, Mask was indispensable to me during that first week. I would have had a nervous breakdown without him there to comfort and reassure me. I was really grateful for his presence.

And then came the check in with Katsuragi-sensei on Monday.

It went well, we went over my reviews and talked about the publishing process, my new friendship with Mask, and how things were going communicating with some of the other writers on the site as well.

Only something was slightly off. She reacted when she saw Mask's name. She didn't say anything or make any other further indication that she was familiar with him, but…that slight crinkling of her brow followed by the widening of her eyes, the very minute stretch of her lips and the way her eyes remained on the words "Pierrot, The Fool's Mask" for a few seconds longer than it should have taken her to read them were all very telling. To a detective, at least. I had two theories.

1) Katsuragi-sensei was on the site herself and had had interactions with Mask before.

2) Katsuragi-sensei seemed to favor having her patients express themselves through writing. She had referred me, a patient, to this site after having had me write. Who was to say that she hadn't done the same for other patients? Judging by the content of Mask's poems, he was probably seeing or needed to see a therapist. Mask was (or had been), therefore, another one of Sensei's patients.

There was, of course, the third option where Mask's was just a name she had come across before while doing the same exercise she was doing with me with other patients.

And then there was door number four where she just found the name particularly interesting and/or puzzling. It was an interesting name, and it was written out in English as my own handle was, so…

But I was clinging to my second theory. Mask was Katsuragi-sensei's patient too.

I imagined running into him in the waiting room one day (even though I never ran into anyone in the waiting room…as I was beginning to think was probably by design due to confidentiality issues).

I thought about casually alluding to it in our chats on occasion, but I never did bring it up. I was afraid that he'd deny it or clam up if I did mention counseling. Not everyone was so open-minded about seeking professional help, and Mask probably didn't want anyone else to know that he was in counseling any more than I did.

So I remained silent, but our chats continued daily, and Mask helped me greatly in polishing my already written chapters.

Chapter two did very well, picking up an additional two reviews from last time, and chapter three where Adelaide made her first appearance was a smash hit.

"I love her," Mask reported. "I. LOVE. Her! Searching, she's magnificent and fiery and hilarious and just such a perfect match for our little Jonny! I love her!"

He went on about Adelaide for a while and then got around to remarking on the rest of the chapter, but at the end of his review, Mask came back to Adelaide.

"I don't know. I just…she's…I feel like she's me. A little more sassy, a little more daring and sure of herself, but… It's like she gets me. Or maybe I get her? I can't really describe it well, but I just feel this really strong connection with her, Searching. Good job. I'll say it again: good job. I can always sympathize with your characters pretty well, but this is the first time I've truly identified with one. It's like she pulls thoughts right out of my head and steals the clever lines right off my lips. Good job, Searching. I'm soooo stoked for next chapter."

At that moment I didn't stop to puzzle over why my friend felt so in touch with my phantom thief; I simply rejoiced in the fact that he did. It was a huge accomplishment for me.

Chapter three was when I first started feeling like a real writer.

…

Things went on like that for another week or two, and I kept working on reworking the old chapters. I had about a dozen of them from my previous months of writing, and I'd even written a couple later scenes, some as the result of throwing ideas around and just goofing off with Mask. I had a lot of good ideas for Jon and Adelaide working together once they became a more or less official couple, but…the hard part was getting them to that point.

I still hadn't really finalized the morning after scene, despite having been working on it for at least a month and a half now. And I was running out of buffer chapters between where my readers were and what I had written. All of the great scenes I had that came later on in the story weren't going to help me at all until I had that all-important morning after scene written, but…I still didn't know what to do about it.

I didn't know Adelaide's secret, so I couldn't tell it to Jon. I couldn't make him understand without the secret of why Adelaide was a thief in the first place, so I couldn't have them move on.

It was completely dispiriting. I felt like such a failure as an author. I didn't even understand my own character.

"Spend some time with her," Mask suggested when I explained my problem. "Do some writing exercises or something, write her backstory. Even if you just jot down everything you know about her on a piece of paper; that should be helpful, right? You're an amateur detective, right, Searching? Pretend she's a suspect. Write down what you know about her and try to fill in all of the blanks."

I did as he said, trying to piece together "Adelaide" over the next week. I checked in with Mask daily about my small epiphanies, and we celebrated my minor revelations together.

Katsuragi-sensei was also a valuable resource in helping me to psychoanalyze Adelaide.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but…stalking Kuroba a little was also helpful. I thoroughly researched him like I hadn't done in months, almost a year ago when I'd first come and learned his true identity. Or rather, his secret identity. Only, this time, instead of studying Kuroba as I would my prey, I looked upon him as a prospective friend or lover. I took the time to learn about his past from the few that had any clue about it. I took a closer look at his family history and learned some very disturbing facts about his parents. There was death, lots of illegal activities, and, most surprisingly, frailty and mental instability.

I took it upon myself to find out Kuroba's interests and hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations and fears.

At the end of that week, I felt like I truly knew Kuroba…but…that was more due to the fact that on Friday when I was following him to the convenience store after school (at a distance and looking distinctly like a creeper as I hid behind things like telephone poles and post boxes), something fell out of a book bag pocket that Kuroba had accidentally left unzipped.

It was a single sheet of paper that came dancing on the breeze to rest at my feet. On that sheet in what was now unmistakably familiar handwriting were the illuminated Bible, school girl curlicue, wonderfully crafted calligraphy letters of Mask's poetry.

The piece of paper read:

My black wings dance on the back of the night, dripping blood.

Run. Get away before these dark feathers stain you.

I don't want you to become tainted.

It bore all the customary marks of Mask's work: the embellishments giving "wings" its own set of wings and making "dance" look like it was indeed twirling about gaily. "Night" twinkled with stars, and "blood" did drip. "Feathers" was molting like a fallen angel, sadly shedding, and "stain" looked like it would never come out. "You" was the same as "her" from his other poems. It was the sainted, beloved, worshipped "she" that was his idol…now known to me as Nakamori Aoko. "Tainted" was an insidious smear on the page.

This was undeniably my dear friend Mask's masterful handiwork…and Kuroba Kaito was undeniably my dear friend Mask.

I went home after that, not sure what to think about…anything really.

Kuroba was Mask, but…now I was beginning to understand Mask's poems better. The Kuroba that I knew was not his true self but a mask that he wore, a contrived character. My friend Mask was closer to the real thing. Behind the safety of anonymity, Kuroba had let his true colors show in Mask.

And Mask was my friend. Therefore, so Kuroba could be too.

Now that I had stalked the man, striven to understand him, I saw him more clearly. I had a certain sympathy for Kuroba because Kuroba was a good man. He had been through so much in his personal life, and he was still suffering what with his crusade as Kid impacting his relationship with his beloved. There had to be a good reason as to why he stole only to return the loot.

Only I didn't understand. I still had no idea of his motives. I knew he was searching, and I could gather that this had something to do with his deceased father, most likely the original Kid, but…

"I still don't get it," I admitted to Mask two days later. "I've come to know Adelaide so well since I started doing all this research and these writing exercises, but I still can't for the life of me figure out why on earth she steals. She's a good person. She has to have a good reason, but I just…I feel like a lousy detective, Mask. I can't put the pieces together. I don't understand."

It took him a minute to reply, and when he did, the text was hesitant.

"Well maybe…maybe it has something to do with someone close to her? Maybe the Big Bad that they're pursuing killed or caused the death of her mom or her sister or something?"

I blinked at my screen.

They'd killed his father. Yes! That was it! They'd killed his father! Those men in the trench-coats that fired at Kid had killed the first one!

"Yes, that's very good. That would make sense why Adelaide would be after these guys. Revenge…or rather…probably a stronger motivator would be to ensure that no one else lost a parent or a sibling to these guys like she had. After all, Adelaide isn't the type of bloodthirsty person that would be out for revenge. She's a protector. She may do quote, unquote 'bad' things, but she's not a bad person, right?"

"Exactly!" Mask quickly responded, and I could almost hear the joy of being understood in Kuroba's voice.

"…But…what does that have to do with the stealing? I mean…what does the stealing have to do with the death of her family member?" I pushed my luck in an attempt to finally get it, the piece of the puzzle that had alluded me for so long.

"Well, maybe it's that she's trying to draw out the person that killed her loved one, trying to make such a nuisance of herself that the Big Bad him- or her- self has to come and deal with Adelaide. Maybe she wants to confront and take down the person that stole her family from her and ensure that it doesn't happen to anyone else.

"Maybe the stealing is because there's something out there that the Big Bad is looking for, something he or she is planning on using for unspeakable evil or something. Adelaide is trying to get it first so that it can't be used for evil. What do you think?"

I could almost see Kuroba holding his breath on the other side of the screen.

"I think those are worthy ideas," I replied. "Thank you so much for sharing them with me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

And thus I was finally able to complete the morning after scene and continue on with my writing.

I showed the whole thing to Mask first, as he had become my unofficial beta reader, and he had cooed over it, praising my fictional interpretation of what he had confided in me.

It felt so good to have his stamp of approval. It meant so much to me.

And then he tentatively asked, "Can I read the H scene? I mean you've mentioned stuff about it with the dinner and the elevator and stuff, but…can I read it? Or do I have to wait like everyone else? :( C'mon, we're buddies, right? Pretty please?"

I was very hesitant at first, but with his begging, I eventually broke down and agreed.

I was actually rather glad that I had after he read it and gushed over it as was his custom with my work. His acceptance of it, likely himself seeing the similarity between Jon and Adelaide and Hakuba and Kid, made me feel less awkward about it.

"That was the best sex scene I have ever read! No, seriously, Searching! That was good! It was so tasteful, but at the same time it was absolutely delicious! Oh my God! I could taste it and feel it and I want my first time to be like that! That was wonderful! The sensory details were just fabulous, and, again, it was so tasteful and innocent, really pure. Their feelings for each other really came across, like, you could see the tremendous amount of respect Jon has for her, and the affection Adelaide has for Jon was just so evident in the way she smiled at him and trailed her fingers over his skin. Gosh you're amazing! I could never write anything like that! You said that you were embarrassed by it because you thought it was indecent, but, Searching, that wasn't smut. What you wrote was poetry, and it was beautiful."

After that we talked often of Jon and Adelaide's budding romance. We were like two old hens plotting our children's marriage, and it was delightfully fun. We talked of walks in the park, days at the amusement park, movie dates spent cuddling on Jon's couch, and secret flirtations at work as he chased her across London.

We discussed their clandestine meetings to thwart the Big Bad's plots and their plans to team up and take their nemesis down. Those were actually the most telling conversations that I had with Kuroba under the guise of Mask. The things he suggested were really informative as far as Kid's fight against his own Big Bad. Slowly I was becoming more sympathetic to Kid's cause.

If he were fighting to protect people from some unknown threat, if he were searching for some dangerous item in order to destroy it before it could be used for evil…well, he was doing Tokyo a world more good than I. And he was doing it all without recognition or thanks. He was protecting us all under the label of "criminal".

I couldn't help but admire him. As he sat in front of me in History class, I was in awe of his strength and tenacity. Kuroba Kaito really was something else.

And then…Mask published the poem, the very same poem that I had chanced to obtain when it escaped from Kuroba's backpack, and my suspicions were confirmed, all doubts gone.

But by that point, most of the thinking and considering had been done. I already had my answer.

…

It was about three months into our acquaintance, several weeks after I had by chance learned Mask's true identity, that I asked him, "Do you think we'd be friends in real life too?"

To which he automatically answered, "Of course. We're buddies, Searching. You're awesome. We'd definitely be friends in real life. Why? You wanna meet for coffee sometime? Though, you'd have tea and I'd have hot chocolate, but…"

"I don't think you'd like me if you knew who I really was," I remarked.

I could almost hear him snorting at me. "Come on. I know who you really are. Not your name or your face or anything, but I know the important things about you just like you know the important things about me. I've been talking to you every day for the past three months. Even if that were all an act you've been putting on (which it's not. I can tell, by the way. I'm very good at reading people), I've read you work. I've read your work, so I know you.

"Writers bare their souls to their readers. You've shown me how your mind works, what's in your heart with each word you chose. I've come to know the real you through Jon and Adelaide and the police. I know you, Searching, and you're awesome. It's just like how you know the real me through my poetry. I've held my still-beating heart out to you through all of those personal experiences I've shared, and you looked at it, studied it, and got to know me through it.

"Writers are some of the most emotionally vulnerable people out there. They invite you into their parlors and let you look at their diaries. They tell you about their first loves, their failures, their fears, all their embarrassing secrets, all of their hidden desires.

"You've read my poetry, and I've read your story. I know you, and I'd be your friend in real life because I know you.

"…Haha. So yeah. Sorry. Poet. You know. I tend to get a little dramatic and…well, overly poetic sometimes, but I gather that you don't really mind that about me, so I'll just end my little rant there, 'kay? ^.^"

I couldn't help but smile at his words as I thought, "Kuroba Kaito, you are a beautiful human being."

I responded, "I think you're absolutely right. I've been more truthful as 'Searching' than I think I ever have been with another human being before. The question is if I can remain this honest in the face to face setting. And no, I rather like that about you. You've got a way with words that just knocks me off of my feet, and I find it extraordinary. Very well. I'll hold you to your word if we ever do meet in real life."

…

I waited a week. In actuality, I hesitated a week. I just couldn't get up the courage to confront Kuroba about my true identity. What if he completely rejected me?! What if—!? What if he smiled and replied, "Took ya long enough. Come over to my house after school today. There's this awesome new poem I want to show you, and then we can talk about Jon and Adelaide's wedding!"?

So after school that Friday I went up to Kuroba as he was packing his things, and I held out the poem that I had carefully, reverently preserved up until that point.

"S-Sorry," I apologized to his shoes. "I… This fell out of your bag a while ago, and I picked it up. I was going to give it back to you, but I read it and I…I didn't know what to say to you, so I…" I chanced a glance up at his face.

He had taken the poem in shaking hands and was now looking down at it, then up at me, then back down in confusion and a bit of alarm.

"But I've always admired your work, so…and this piece is no exception, so…" I bit my lip, not knowing what else to say. "…I wasn't sure if you'd still want to get coffee, but…" And then I bit my tongue as his eyes widened and then narrowed.

His mouth opened and closed, but he didn't say anything.

And then I lost my nerve and bolted. "I hope you have a nice weekend," was practically flung over my shoulder as I speed walked away.

Mask wasn't on all weekend, and I didn't try to PM him. No word from Kuroba either. Not that I was expecting anything.

It was during second period Monday morning, English, that Kuroba turned around and placed an index card-sized piece of paper on my desk. After he had deposited the card, he faced front once more without so much as a word or any other kind of acknowledgement that he had interacted with me.

I picked it up and read:

Black and White

Not irreconcilable opposites. Merely bookends,

Counting on each other for support.

"Black" was dressed up like Kid with a cape, top hat, and monocle while "White" wore the deerstalker and inverness of my idol. There was even a little magnifying glass at the end by the e.

At the bottom of the card in Kuroba's own messy dove scratch was written, "About coffee…are you paying? 'Cause I'm broke. As you know, my profession isn't very lucrative. ^.^;"

I smiled and pulled out a scrap of paper, writing down my reply. "My treat of course, but in return can we promise to talk just as honestly face to face as we do online?"

Kaito read my response and gave an amused snort. He turned around and whispered in English, "I am the very face of honesty and the soul of discretion."

I rolled my eyes following suit and continuing in English. "With the devil's smile and his very own silver tongue."

He shrugged and laughed softly. "Can't be helped. I thought you liked my way with words."

I returned his smile. "Honestly? I really do."

"Then I'll try to be as honest as possible with you in the future as well." He made a little motion of crossing his heart.

"Even about your vigilante efforts?" I held my breath.

"Bi-Vigilanchi?" he stumbled over the new word.

"Vigilante," I repeated once more in English and then the Japanese equivalent: "Jikeidanin."

His eyes widened at the word I had used so many times when referring to Adelaide. And then he laughed softly once more.

Our instructor's patience at our whispering mid-lecture ran out at that point, and she sternly barked, "Hakuba-kun, Kuroba-kun. Face the front and pay attention."

Never one to challenge authority, I lowered my head and clammed up with a timid, "Please excuse me."

Kuroba, however, whined in English, "But, Sensei, Hakuba's teaching me all sorts of new words like vigilante, phantasmagoria, thanatopsis, and legerdemain!"

Sensei's eyes widened, and she did some very skilled fish imitations before she finally replied, "Well…just keep it down, okay? The other students are trying to listen."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Kaito cheered with a chipper salute.

I looked at him in amazement. "You know words like 'thanatopsis', but you don't know 'vigilante'?"

Kuroba shrugged. "I'm a poet and a magician. Of course I know words like that. I'm sorry that you find my humble lexicon to be deficient in English."

I stared at him for a bit.

"What?" he chuckled.

I shook my head and admitted, "Oh, I was just wondering about your alter ego's poor pronunciation of 'Ladies and Gentlemen'."

He shrugged once more, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, "That's the act."

"Astounding," I sighed. "…So…later, frank conversations about your vigilante efforts?"

"In exchange for the right to give Adel-chan away at her wedding to Jon. I feel like she's my daughter, after all," Kuroba replied most seriously.

I laughed. "Oh is that all?"

"And the right to help name the babies," he added.

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't thought about children. Let alone in English in the middle of class with Kuroba. It felt like I was being tasked to name my firstborn right then and there. I blinked. "D-Did Adelaide want children?"

"Of course she wants children!" Kuroba exclaimed as quietly as he could to keep from interrupting the lecture. "Dozens of them! Doesn't Jon?"

I thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "I believe he does. In a few years. If it's with Adelaide. But…maybe start off with one or two."

"Fine, but I want you to know that you're zero percent fun," Kuroba grumbled.

I replied with a shrug, thinking how surreal this all was.

The man whom I had thought to be my antithesis for so long had turned into my best friend, and he was everything that I had wanted in a companion.

Through this whole experience, I had learned so much about myself, learned who I was and how to share that "me" with others. I'd learned to be accepted and to accept. My way of thinking had changed, and I could now see things from other people's perspectives. Through writing, I had learned to widen my worldview. There was no difference between main and minor characters in fiction as well as real life. All had stories, feelings, fears, and dreams.

I found myself not needing to ask "Why?" so much anymore because I finally understood. The people around me were no longer a total mystery, and that made it easier on me. I felt more secure, both in who I was and around other people. I was no longer grasping at straws in social interactions because I had practiced many times in my stories.

Maybe there was something to this writing thing after all. It had given me confidence and a sense of self. It'd brought me friends and, more than anything, allowed me to process and work through my toughest problems. By struggling through my depression, my self-loathing, and my myriad tremendous doubts on paper, I was able to deal with them when they cropped back up in my real life.

It was therapeutic, healing to get all of those feelings down and then hold them out there for people to see. Like Kuroba had said, "Here's my still-beating heart." To which I can add, "This is me: ugly and broken, imperfect and yet…still glorious—a mess of true to life humanity…. What do you think?"

It was freeing to finally take off the masks and truly be seen.

The

End

…

Mikau: *Blushes* So what did you think? No, honestly. Part of me is panicking, screaming, "I can't believe you wrote all that down and now you're showing it to people! What are you doing?!" and then the other half is like, "You know, it feels really good to write that down and get it off my chest. I should spill my guts to people and be brutally honest more often." So yeah. I really hope you liked it, and I'd appreciate you taking a sec to jot down some thoughts, even if it's just to say "It didn't suck". Thanks so much, guys! It really means a lot to me! See you again soon!