My favorite anime usually have a character that I personally draw a lesson from. It's how I enjoy stories - by attaching to characters.

There's many I could pick here, but I choose Phos from Land of the Lustrous, and a lesson about growing up. (Spoilers for both anime and manga) https://twitter.com/YuiReviews/status/1390844192486793217

Yui brought up Midori. That came as a bit of a surprise, as I originally dropped Sound Euphonium! a few episodes in, large part because I felt Midori and Hazuki were static and largely uncompelling supporting characters to Kumiko.

(To be clear, this is one of my fav shows now)

The reason I bring this up is that Yui extols the value of a static character like Midori that nonetheless provides a positive influence on everyone around her.

I'm fundamentally different. I find value in round characters that change, above all else. https://twitter.com/YuiReviews/status/1365743792687616009

This makes me a hypocrite in choosing Phos, because they change into a drastically different character by the end of the anime, let alone up to where the manga is, and not necessarily for the better.

A clip from the final episode to illustrate my point.

It's a direct parallel to the beginning of the show. Phos was once a "child" who had no responsibility nor drive, dozing off in the grass. But by the ending, they stand ready in the grass as an "adult", watching for Lunarians, with clear duty and will.

There's a tragicness to this, despite Phos having grown up to be as strong and useful as they yearned to be throughout the show. For one, Morganite calls for Phos as if they still think they are playing hide-and-seek with a child.

But more than that, Phos has lost themself. That self-indulgent, proud, and hopeful identity that drove Phos to become an "adult", now is not even acknowledged as Phos focuses on their mission ahead of them.

Fast forward to where the manga is, and Phos doesn't even recognize themself anymore.

Phos as a character encapsulates an inner conflict that has stayed with me for most of my life. Growing up, many people around me were like Morganite and the other gems, seeing me as a child yet simultaneously urging me to grow up and be useful.

But I already did feel older -

and more mature than my peers. I was told I was a boisterous and happy child growing up, self-confident and always talking to others as if they should be interested in me.

Yet, I barely remember this. I feel as if I didn't have a childhood. That wasn't me.

So, Phos embodies my greatest fear that by racing to become a responsible adult, I had forgotten the person I originally was.

And yet, for Phos, their naive and childlike effort to find Cinnabar a better job persists in their memory.

More than that, this "adult" goal to uncover the truth at the cost of destroying the innocence of her past life is nonetheless intertwined with their "child"-like fixation on Cinnabar, needing their affirmation and care.

Because Ichikawa is a cruel woman, Phos simultaneously gets what they want, and the exact opposite of what they want.

Affirmation? Closeness? Separation. Conflict.

Setting aside my depression, Phos is a reminder that while children aspire to be adults, adults should never be separated from the child they were. Even if others insist on this binary separation. Even if they feel distanced themself.

I've always seen myself in a limbo between child and adult. Always will, I think. So Phos reminds me to indulge in childishness where I may,

because there's nothing wrong with being a child-like adult.