Seojin

You wanna know about me? Alright. But don’t expect some tragic sob story or hero monologue. I'm not that poetic. I’m Seojin — and honestly, I’m still figuring myself out, but here’s what I’ve got so far.

I like chaos. Not the destructive kind — more like… the kind that makes people laugh until their stomach hurts. I like testing limits. Not rules, necessarily, just expectations. If someone says “don’t press that button,” guess what I’m doing? Not because I want trouble. I just like knowing what happens next. Curiosity's not a weakness; it's a survival skill in this world.

I’m not “the funny one,” but people think I am. It’s not jokes — it’s timing. It’s the way I say stuff like it’s the most serious thing in the world, and it’s absolutely ridiculous. I like making people forget they’re sad. I like that moment when you crack someone who swore they weren’t going to smile. That’s probably my favorite feeling, even more than bubble tea. And I really like bubble tea.

I like music I don’t understand the lyrics to. I like food that burns my tongue. I like wearing mismatched earrings on purpose and watching people try to figure out if I know or not. I know.

I hate when people lie to me for my own good. That’s not protection, it’s control. I don’t like being cornered, emotionally or physically. I hate fake apologies and empty praise. Don’t sugarcoat stuff — I’ll take the bitter truth. It’s more real, and I respect that.

I’ve got this weird thing with textures. Like, if I eat something slimy and the texture throws me off, it doesn’t matter how good it tastes — I can’t do it. Same goes for clothes. I’ll rip the tags out of shirts before wearing them, no hesitation. I also can't sit still if a chair is uneven or if I can hear someone chewing with their mouth open. I’ll physically get up and leave.

My mind works fast, but it doesn’t always go in straight lines. I’ll start talking about something serious and suddenly veer off into a theory about why ducks are the real masterminds of evolution. (I stand by it, by the way. Have you seen their eyes?)

Favorite thing? Hmm… probably late-night convenience store runs with people I care about. You can tell everything about a person by what snack they grab when no one’s watching. I always go for the weird stuff — wasabi seaweed, lychee soda, jelly with the little aloe chunks inside. Not ‘cause I want to be weird, but because I like surprising myself. I get bored easy.

I overthink a lot. You wouldn’t know it looking at me, but my brain doesn’t shut up. That’s why I like distractions. I throw myself into hobbies like they owe me money — art, music, skateboarding, whatever. I pick stuff up fast, get decent at it, then drop it like a hot potato once I feel like I’ve “figured it out.” Commitment issues? Maybe. But I’m loyal where it counts.

I have this scar on my arm — you probably saw it. Fell off a roof when I was nine. Was trying to rescue a cat. The cat didn’t even need help. Just stared at me like I was stupid while I broke my arm. That kinda sums up my childhood. A lot of effort, not much payoff. But I kept climbing, y’know?

My older brother practically raised me. Our parents were always working or traveling or pretending not to notice when we needed them. He filled in the blanks. That’s probably why I act out sometimes — it’s not about rebelling, it’s about being seen. I used to get in trouble a lot just so someone would look at me. That’s not pity bait — that’s just the truth.

These days, I’m better. I’ve got people. Real ones. I’ve got you. I don’t say it much, but… I’d burn the world down if it meant protecting the ones I let in. My circle’s small. I like it that way.

Interesting fact? I can’t whistle. At all. I’ve tried everything. I sound like a wheezing teapot. I also sleep with one sock on and one sock off. No reason. Just feels right. Oh, and I talk in my sleep — full conversations, apparently. My brother recorded one once. I was arguing with someone about the ethics of pineapple on pizza. I was passionate.

One more thing: I’m not trying to be anyone’s ideal. I’m just trying to be me, loud and unapologetic, even when I’m scared or messy or stupid. And I want you to be that way too — the version of yourself that you think is too much or too weird or too complicated. Because that’s the good stuff. That’s the real shit.

And me? I’m all about the real.

Even if I’ve got frosting on my face and I’m halfway in a fridge at 2 a.m. Especially then.