jazzied

[jazzied]

A foreword you may not really look into.

A HALF-INKED ROTTEN VERSES OF PITY PUNK.

All pieces here are to be served by PUNK to your knowing. Kindly do refrain from making him as a mere punching bag because he already is to life.

And there he goes, telling people he excelled the surviving-at-last game.

…

[jazzied]

A glimpse of the most average people could be.

Jazziel Anargya—Jazz, for short—was born in Singapore, May 20th, 1998. Only child. One of those rare people that makes me seemed like I was raised on a balance beam and somehow never fell off. My dad’s a lawyer, sharp as a blade. Mother? A business powerhouse, building things from scratch while making it all look easy. Growing up in a house like that, expectations weren’t just high—they were almost written in the ceiling like stars. So naturally, little me thought, Alright, I’ll be a lawyer too. Makes sense.

But as time ticked forward, my older person began realizing something. Well, I didn’t hate law—but I wasn’t built for it either. Not in a lazy way, more like…I saw how it worked, how dad moved through that world with a kind of fight in his gut, and I just didn’t have that same hunger for legal combat. I didn’t want every day to feel like a courtroom drama. I wanted something smoother. Something that didn’t pull the oxygen out of the chest.

So off I went to LSE, keeping up the prestige without picking the obvious path. And when I got out, I finally found my thing—a management trainee role at a big FMCG company. Wow, sounds like I was about to pull the arrogance off my tiny ego, but, nope, that just ain’t never my thing.

The kind of place where things move fast, but the gears are oiled. It somehow clicked for me. Now I’m a CF Manager there, and while everyone around swears I am some kind of corporate golden boy, the truth is—I just like what I do. And that makes a world of difference.

I am not the type to wear burnout like a badge of honor. I work hard, sure, but only because the job lets me live well—hopefully. No guilt about logging off when the clock hits. No glorifying exhaustion. That’s what people often miss—I’m not striving for perfection, am just pretty good at staying in tune with what works for my own.

And when the laptop snaps shut? That’s when my other person kicks in.

The guy with headphones always ready, chasing good music like it’s a compass needle. And he walks. Just… walks. Through neighborhoods, streets he doesn’t know, trails that aren’t marked. No destination, no goal. It’s not deep or poetic—it’s just what he loves. Some people jump out of planes for a thrill. He takes long steps with a good playlist and calls it freedom.

The guy’s simple, but not basic. Quiet, but not absent. He’s just figured himself out more than most. And I am him, to no extent.

PORTRAYED BY ARTHUR CHEN.