From me, an incomplete message

I’ve never been someone who shares much of myself online. I tend to overthink every post and every word, including the ones you’re reading right now. However, I’m starting to realize that keeping everything inside can become its own kind of weight. This space is my attempt to speak up, even if the words come out a little slowly. I hope you find something here that resonates with you.

There were times when I felt lost trying to find my place in the world. When I was younger, the internet felt like a small window where I could be my truest self, but that joy eventually faded into doubt. I began questioning everything I created, and most of my thoughts ended up hidden away in private drafts. Building this website is a small act of freedom for me; it is a quiet corner where I can simply exist as I am.

Even my name has a bit of a history. My best friend actually came up with the first version, “Milky,” which was named after a drink I used to buy all the time after school. That eventually evolved into “Mike,” and later “Mikeblocky” when I joined Roblox years ago. It’s a silly name, but it somehow managed to grow alongside me through every stage of my life.

For a long time, I followed the path of Computer Science. I appreciated the logic and the way code could bring an idea into reality, but eventually, I realized it wasn't where I truly belonged. The pressure led to a lot of anxiety and burnout. Now, I’m moving toward something that feels much closer to my heart: Japanese language and literature. I want to spend my time exploring stories, understanding people, and studying the culture that has shaped so much of who I am.

I’ve always lived inside my own head. Part of that comes from an upbringing where mistakes felt very heavy. Growing up with a strict father taught me to measure my worth by my performance, which left marks that I’m still navigating today. But I’ve tried to turn that habit of overthinking into a strength. It helps me reflect more deeply and feel a stronger sense of empathy for the emotions found in stories and people.

Speaking of stories, Skip and Loafer has become a mirror for my own life. I see so much of myself in Shima, especially in the quiet, awkward moments of trying to grow up while feeling completely stuck. Volume 8 was particularly difficult for me to get through; it took me an entire month because every few pages felt like looking back at my own past. I cried when I finally finished it, and even now, just thinking about it brings back that familiar ache.

Another series that stayed with me is Kemutai Hanashi. It is a gentle, human story about regret, longing, and the fragile connections that keep us moving forward. It doesn’t rely on big explanations or loud drama; it simply exists with a soft honesty. Every time I reread it, I’m reminded that art doesn’t need to be loud to reach someone. Its warmth continues to influence how I view the world and how I draw.

These stories changed my perspective on my own artwork. I stopped trying to be flashy or perfect and started focusing on warmth. I want my drawings to feel like small windows into those fleeting moments that usually go unnoticed. I try to capture the kinds of feelings that don’t ask for attention but still hope to be seen by someone.

I don’t have a clear map for where I’m going. It might lead to teaching, storytelling, or something I haven’t discovered yet. But for now, I’m here, I’m figuring things out, and I think that is enough.