I could spend my time here talking about the many misgivings I have with the storytelling, but it really does not matter, cause no matter what criticism I had about it’s “redundancy” or how “amateur” it is, I would still always find myself at the sidelines cheering them on. Hoping and praying that these two characters who needed each other more than anyone else would be able to communicate their feelings to one another. A desire to see these two find a speck of happiness, a moment of catharsis for all the frustration I felt in watching them awkwardly try to navigate their blossoming emotions in spite of their trauma and responsibilities.

You could call this ever present desire of mine my weakness, and it’s this weakness that Echo of Starsong exploits to hurt me in ways fiction never has before.

I’ve spent multiple hours just constantly replaying the final moments over and over in my head, looking for a silver lining, a recognition that my catharsis wasn’t stolen for nothing, but there’s no light at the end of this tunnel, just a field of regrets.