I’m hopelessly, unapologetically devoted to Bon Jovi and Westlife, two names that carry the soundtrack of my growing years. Their early 2000s anthems still catch me off guard, sweeping me into that golden kind of ache, the kind that only nostalgia knows how to hold. There’s something about pop in all its shimmering glory that soothes the restless corners of me, the parts that never quite sit still.

And yet, I never close my ears to the here and now. The present has its own kind of rhythm, its own magic and ENHYPEN pulses through my veins like a secret language I never knew I needed. There’s a loyalty there, the quiet kind. The kind that sings back to you when you think the world has gone silent.

I don’t belong to any one genre. I never could. I belong to songs that stir something in me to verses that make me feel seen, to melodies that make ordinary days ...

I go by Fawn Jose Colt, a name that sounds like it belongs in a novel, and maybe it does. I’m over 24, which is to say, legal.

I don’t interact with minors, not out of coldness, but because I believe in some conversations need a certain weight, a certain weather in the soul.

By birth, I’m a Sagittarius, fire-tongued and freedom-hungry. By type, I’m ENTP-T, I ask questions I already know the answers to, just to watch how people reply. Not out of games, but curiosity. The good kind.

I live in metaphors, fall in love with people’s book collections, and leave when the energy turns beige.

So if you ever meet me, remember this, I’m not an open book, I’m more of a mystery novel with missing pages and lipstick notes in the margins. Read carefully. Or don’t. I’m not for everyone, and I ...

I speak often on political matters, not for attention, not for argument, but because silence has never been a refuge for me. My country does not rest. It breathes in conflict, it aches in cycles, and to live within it is to understand that every moment, every breath, is entangled with power, resistance, and choice. I do not carry opinions like ornaments, I carry them like armor, forged in the fire of reality.

In times like these, neutrality is not peace, it is privilege dressed up as politeness. And I have no interest in performing politeness where it costs people their dignity, their safety, their future. That is why I say this plainly and without apology, if you voted for '02, if you defend or minimize that choice, you have no place in my space.

There is no debate here. I will not "agree to disagree" with anyone whose choices ...

I’ve learned to fill its silence with gentler things. The music still plays, the books still open, but I’ve found comfort in quieter company lately.

Animals have always felt like old friends from a dream I half-remember. There's something sacred in their simplicity, in the way they just are. I keep a few around me now, small, soulful reminders that not everything in this world needs explaining.

Among them is a cat. Not just any cat, mind you, but a little thief of my attention, my snacks, and occasionally my seat. She walks like poetry no one dares edit, naps like she invented the art, and when she looks at me half-judging, half-loving, I feel entirely human in the best way.

And I hope, wherever you are, this image brings a soft smile to your day. Maybe even reminds you of something gentle you’ve been missing.

There’s something I adore, truly adore about conversations with any souls. Not the surface chatter, but the way one sentence can feel like a hand gently offered in trust. As an ENTP-T, I live in language Words of Affirmation, fleeting glances of sincerity tucked inside syllables. That’s how I stay warm in a world that often forgets to tell.

Words aren’t just tools to me, they’re treasures. I collect them the way some people press flowers between books. Every sentence shared, especially from someone dear, becomes a line I carry with me like a secret in my pocket.

I find joy in reading, but more than that, I find joy in reading you. The way you write, the words you choose, the silences between your phrases... they speak. And sometimes I hold them in my memory like a favorite page I keep turning back to.

I’ve walked through the heavy, haunted ...