And then...there's me.

If my sister is best described as a fox, I’d much rather call myself a cat. A Maine Coon, to be exact. (Actually, I'm not quite as cute as this gen makes me look, right? 😅)

This gen is based on an older hand-drawn sketch of mine that I later processed digitally. It might look a little different from my usual style.

If my sister is the embodiment of "vitality," then I am the physical manifestation of "stillness."

I'm not good at direct, face-to-face communication. Expressing my true feelings is as difficult for me as trying to catch a single leaf swept up in a storm.

The words I want to say often get stuck in my throat, swallowed by the fear of what others might think, the terror of exposing my vulnerabilities, or the self-doubt that tells me I'm just being "too childish."

Because of this, virtual creation has become my only sanctuary. It’s the only place where I am a soul in complete control, free to pour my heart out.

Like my sister, I love nature. But while she connects directly with living creatures, I prefer to look at nature through the lens of time, seeking out the traces left by humanity.

I’m drawn to geography, history, and literature in a broader sense—tracing the footsteps of ancient travelers through mountains and rivers, or listening to the anthems of humanity echoing down the river of history.

In the face of these grand, sweeping concepts, my own "stillness" feels so insignificant, and that actually makes me feel incredibly safe.

As for why I liken myself to a Maine Coon, it’s been a long journey of self-discovery.

I remember preferring canines when I was younger because I envied their energy, their enthusiasm, and their unreserved devotion. I also envied my sister's extroverted nature and her ability to just embrace the world.

For me, socializing is often draining. No matter how much I want to share, my fear usually wins, silencing me with a single thought: "Maybe they just don't want to hear it."

Perhaps now I have finally mustered up some courage to write down something.

She sometimes teases me, saying, "You really are like a cat. I can't believe you can stay in one spot all day without moving." I suppose she's right. But the truth is, I actually love going out and exploring places I've never been before. It's just that... maybe I'm "lazy"?

Rather than the physical act of "going," I prefer to simply "exist" in those places, letting my thoughts and imagination act as my body, soaring into unknown dimensions. So I figured, "A cat is fine. Whatever."

Deep down, perhaps I still yearn to be an outgoing and passionate person. Even though I know who I am, and even though I've tried.

While I am fiercely independent, I also hope to be like a Maine Coon: possessing a large, aloof, and "not-to-be-messed-with" feline exterior, but keeping a sanctuary deep inside.

In that safe zone, the most clingy, gentle, and even playful version of myself is always waiting—waiting for someone I can drop all my defenses for. Once I find that anchor, I'm no longer just an isolated individual; I become a fiercely loyal protector, willing to give everything to guard the one I rely on.

English isn’t my first language, so maybe these scattered words still fall short of what I truly mean.

But this is me.