Leaping Lizard Cosplay

Aloha, again Geckos! 💙🌙

Look at me… Doing the thing… Today’s post is another entry in my Cositivity- Positivity in the Cosplay Community series.

For those new! Hi, I’m Liz! Aka Leaping Lizard Cosplay. 🦎✨ I’ve been part of the cosplay community for nearly two decades, making weird builds, organizing chaotic group shoots, judging contests, and ranting about the weather in costume. I’m based out in Hawaiʻi, where I mostly lurk online these days and slowly reemerge for cons and crafts.

Let’s be real: how many times have you seen cosplayers say they’re quitting?

“It got too competitive.”
“It feels lonely now.”
“It stopped being fun.”
“It’s all about ladder-climbing and cliques.”
“It turned into drama instead of joy.”

😔 I’ve watched it happen to so many good people—people who just wanted to create, connect, and have fun. And I’ve felt those feelings myself, more than once. For those who’ve stepped away, I have one final call to action waiting for you at the end of this blog post.

For a long time, I couldn’t separate my pain from the community. The hurt I experienced felt tangled up in cosplay itself. But as I’ve grown and healed, I’ve started to see things more clearly. These weren’t failures of cosplay—they were difficult, painful life experiences that just happened to take place in a space I love.

This post comes from that place. It’s part reflection, part emotional unpacking, and a whole lot of honesty about friendships, boundaries, and what this hobby really means to me.

Whether you’ve known me for years or just found this through a meme—thank you for being here. 💖

Now… let’s talk.

Late-night introspection hit again—like it does when your brain is cosplaying a philosopher at 1 a.m. 🧠✨ So HEAR ME OUT—

What if… we made friends with fellow content creators just to be friends?

Wild concept, I know. But seriously—

👉 If I do something nice for you, it’s because I want to. No “you owe me.” No tit for tat. Just vibes. 💖

Sidenote: If you’re new to cosplay or content creation—Aloha, welcome! 💫 You don’t need followers or fancy gear to make real connections here. Just bring your weird, wonderful self.

Whether you’re a cosplayer, photographer, streamer, YouTuber, TikToker, or some beautiful chaotic combo of them all—you don’t have to collaborate to be close. You don’t need to build something together to build trust. The friendship doesn’t have to be transactional. 🙅‍♀️💼

Now, if you’re new and wondering, “Wait, is this really how cosplay friendships work?” — kind of! But don’t stress. Here’s the real talk behind some of the awkward expectations nobody ever really explains. 👀📷

While this applies to all forms of content creation, I’m going to focus in on the cosplay community—because that’s where I’ve lived, loved, burned out, healed, and still believe in the magic.

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Now, About Collabs 🎭🧵

Let’s start with collabs… First off, I’ve got incredible cosplay friends who I’ve never teamed up with on a build—and it hasn’t changed how much I adore them. Our friendship isn’t built on shared costumes. It’s built on shared laughter, mutual admiration, and chaotic con-floor selfies. ✨📸

If we ever decide to cosplay together because we’re both fired up about the idea? Amazing. That’s the sweet spot. But I’ll never expect it. No pressure. No hidden strings. Just shared excitement and mutual respect.

Because honestly, sometimes the most meaningful cosplay friendships are the ones where we just cheer each other on from opposite ends of the con. You in your masterpiece. Me in mine. And both of us yelling “SLAY” from across the dealer’s room.

On the Flip Side… 🔄

When someone invites me into a cosplay group, I’m honored. Like, seriously honored. 9 times out of 10, I’m in—balls to the wall, zero hesitation 💥🕺🔥. Especially for the big ensemble sets I organize, like full Eeveelution groups 🦊⚡🌈❄️—those bring me so much joy it’s hard to put into words. I go hard to make sure everyone feels included and celebrated. 💪🫂

But I won’t lie… asking someone to cosplay with me gives me massive anxiety 😬💭.

Not because I don’t trust them—but because I worry the friendship might start to feel transactional. And I never want that.

Not because I don’t love and trust them, but because I fear the ask will change the dynamic. I worry the friendship might start to feel like a transaction—like I only wanted them for the costume, or the clout, or the photo op.

And that’s never, ever the case. If I invite you into something, it’s because I genuinely enjoy your company and think it would be fun. That’s it. I’m not keeping score. I’m not trying to leverage anyone. I just love this artform, and I love sharing it with good people.

But in this community, where collabs can sometimes feel like networking tools instead of friendships, that line gets blurry. So I hesitate. I overthink. And I sometimes miss opportunities because I’m too afraid of making someone feel used.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: if I ask you to build or cosplay with me, it’s because I think you’re awesome. No strings. No ulterior motives. Just a weather lizard with a dream—and a glue gun. 🦎💫

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A Brief Note on Photoshoots 📸

There’s a lot of unspoken pressure in our community when it comes to free shoots. But the truth is: I know incredibly talented photographers—folks I admire deeply—and we’ve never shot together. And that’s okay!

Not every friendship needs to be filtered through a lens. If someone ever wanted to photograph a cosplay I made because they genuinely liked it—not because I’m popular that week or because they feel obligated? That would be a dream 🥹📷. But it should happen organically—with excitement, with consent, and with mutual creative energy. Not expectation. Not pressure. Not guilt.

Sometimes people ask, “Why haven’t you shot with so-and-so?” And the answer is usually simple: either our styles didn’t align, the timing didn’t work, or the moment just didn’t happen. That doesn’t make the friendship any less real. Admiration doesn’t always need a deliverable.

And hey, sometimes you do shoot with friends, and the results just don’t work out. 💀😂 Lighting’s off, energy’s low, you blinked in 12 out of 15 shots. It happens. Me and some of my photographer friends have scrapped entire sets before. No drama. No resentment. We’re human. So is art. 🎨🤷‍♀️

There’s a weird weight that can settle over creative partnerships when expectations get too tangled with personal relationships. I never want someone to feel like they owe me a shoot—or worse, that I owe them one. That’s not how I work. That’s not how I want to build my community.

Also, if I ever become wildly rich and can pay you what you truly deserve—trust me, I will absolutely throw EVA-foam-shaped money at you accordingly. 😂 Until then, I’ll keep sharing, shouting you out, and showing love for the art you make—even if we never end up shooting together.

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When You’re Just a Ladder 🪜🌠

There have been people who only worked with me to get closer to “bigger names” or grow their audience. And honestly? It stung. Not because I expected anything in return—but because I thought we had a real connection.

Was it rough at first? Definitely. 😢 It can mess with your head when someone fades out the moment they’ve gotten what they needed. But eventually, I came to understand—it’s not always personal. Some people move quickly through spaces, goals, and relationships without even realizing how that affects others. They’re not being cruel—they’re just focused. And when they move on… it can still hurt.

Also—this is important—just because someone becomes successful and you fall out of their orbit doesn’t automatically mean they used you as a ladder. 🚀 Sometimes people outgrow spaces, get busy, or shift focus. That’s part of life. And it doesn’t mean they’re bad people or that the connection you had wasn’t real. It just means their path changed.

I’m speaking from my own experience here—my own cosplay journey. Over the years, I’ve drifted from friend groups, fallen out with folks, and changed spaces more times than I can count. But I still do my best to show up for the people I’ve had meaningful connections with. Even if we don’t talk anymore, if you were kind to me—I remember. And I’m rooting for you. 💖

That said, I only have so many spoons. And one of my weirdly lovely “first world problems” is that I’ve made so many friends over the years that it’s hard to keep up with everyone. I still care deeply for the vast majority of people I’ve connected with—but with my medical stuff and limited energy, I know I come off like a flake sometimes. And that breaks my heart. I never want anyone to feel less loved or like they’re not important to me.

I may not be able to have five-hour heart-to-hearts every week—and that’s on me. I live on an island, and it’s hard when I don’t see people from day to day. And also, I go quiet when I’m not okay. I tend to curl up in my metaphorical cave when I’m sad, tired, or just trying to get through the week. It’s not that I don’t want to talk—it’s that I don’t always have the strength to. That’s a flaw of mine. But if you’re ever wondering… yeah. I probably still love you. If you ever need something, I do try my best to show up, but please know I’m just one lizard. 🦎💙

THAT SAID! Now, if you’ve experienced this, I want you to know: it’s okay to feel hurt. You’re not being dramatic. That connection mattered to you—and that matters. But try not to carry bitterness with you. Let yourself be disappointed, but also give yourself permission to release it. You showed up with kindness, and that means something, even if it wasn’t returned in the way you hoped.

And remember, not everyone will treat you like a stepping stone. I’ve also had friendships that bloomed out of nowhere—someone I met while fixing a busted wig in a bathroom mirror who later became a core con buddy. I’ve had 2 a.m. hotel lobby chats that felt like therapy. Strangers became ride-or-dies because we geeked out over the same obscure anime. These are the memories I hold closest. 💖✨ There are people who stick. People who stay. People who show up because they genuinely enjoy your energy, your company, your weird memes, your late-night rants about costume glue. 🫶

Keep being you. Keep doing what brings you joy. Just because someone didn’t stay doesn’t mean the bond you felt wasn’t real in that moment.

Sometimes people pass through. But sometimes? They stay. 💛

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This Cosplay Hustle Can Feel Lonely 💼🎭💔

Cosplay’s shifted a lot. With so many people chasing professional dreams 🎯, groups break up, priorities shift, and fame starts to blur genuine connections 🤝➡️📉. If you’re still figuring out your place, that’s totally okay. You don’t need to post every day or cosplay the hottest trend to matter. There’s no “right way” to do this. 🎭🌱

What I’m trying to stress is that it’s not always malicious—it’s just momentum. People move, people grow, people chase the next opportunity, and sometimes, that means drifting away from the folks who were once their cosplay ride-or-dies.

I’m lucky cosplay isn’t my full-time job—I think that helps me stay grounded 🌱. I get to create at my own pace, make weird stuff because I want to, and say “no” to things that don’t feel right. I don’t have to chase the algorithm, the next brand deal, or the pressure to always be “on.” And honestly? That’s a blessing wrapped in EVA foam and a little glitter.

Still, I wonder… how do the super famous folks tell who’s real? Who’s actually there for them—not just the shiny costume or the follower count? If the tiny taste of it I’ve had is any indicator… I don’t envy it. 😵‍💫

It’s weird. People treat you differently when they think you have “value.” Suddenly, they laugh a little harder at your jokes, remember your name more often, and want to be seen near you at cons—like you’re the prize at the end of some networking quest.

And then, poof—once you’re not trending, they disappear. Like they never knew you. Like you were just a ladder 🪜.

It messes with your head. You start questioning every new connection. Do they actually like me, or do they just want access to something—or someone—I know? It makes it harder to trust. Harder to ask for help. Harder to just… exist.

And I know that might sound dramatic, but I think a lot of people in this community feel it and just don’t say it out loud. So here I am. Saying it. For me—and maybe for you, too.

You’re not crazy for feeling it. You’re not bitter. You’re just aware. And awareness is a kind of armor. 🛡️✨ So if no one’s told you lately: you matter beyond your metrics. You’re more than a tag or a shoutout. You’re you. And that’s enough. 💖🦎🌈

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Not Every Friendship Was What I Thought 💔

I’ve had friendships in this community that meant the world to me—until they didn’t. These are a few of the moments that broke my heart, shifted how I trust, and helped me understand where my boundaries truly begin. In nearly 20 years of cosplaying, these are the ones that stuck with me the most. I could write novels about them, but I’m keeping things brief to protect people’s anonymity.

I’ll be honest—some of these broke me so deeply that I had to step away from cosplay just to heal. I couldn’t separate the pain from the community. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve stopped blaming cosplay itself, and started recognizing them for what they were: difficult life experiences that happened to take place in a space I love.

1. The Jealous Goodbye 😔🧀💔
One of my first real heartbreaks in cosplay happened shortly after I started guesting at shows. A friend told me—very directly—that they couldn’t be around me anymore because they resented my success. Not because I had wronged them. In fact, they told me I had always been honest, kind, and supportive. But the way they put it… my growth made them feel small.

What hurt even more was how close we had been. I was there when her boyfriend proposed. I helped plan the surprise. I kept the secret, celebrated with her, and genuinely felt joy for her happiness. We had shared so many personal moments—things that went far beyond costumes and conventions.

So when she told me she couldn’t be around me anymore, it shattered something in me. There was nothing I could say to make it better. Nothing I could do to shrink myself enough to ease her discomfort. And so, the friendship ended. I was devastated. I didn’t just lose a cosplay friend—I lost someone I considered chosen family. But when someone tells you they can’t be around you simply because you’re doing well… it leaves a strange kind of scar.

I don’t hate her. I still look back on the good memories with real gratitude. But it broke my heart to realize that no matter how much love or support I gave, it couldn’t make someone stay who hadn’t yet made peace with their own reflection.

2. Spicy Boundaries 🌶️🚫💬
Several friends stopped associating with me after I posted some spicy content—risqué modeling and more adult-leaning work that just didn’t align with their comfort zones. It honestly caught me off guard. The shift was fast, and in some cases, total. People I used to talk to regularly suddenly distanced themselves or went quiet altogether.

It blew my mind how quickly people could draw such hard lines over something so personal—especially when that content had nothing to do with our friendships. But over time, I’ve come to understand that people carry different values, upbringings, and boundaries. What’s empowering for one person might be uncomfortable for another.

I don’t blame them. Truly. Everyone has the right to decide what they engage with and what feels right for them. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The silence hurt. The sudden absence hurt. I didn’t change who I was—I just expressed a part of myself they weren’t comfortable with.

And while I respect their right to step back, I’ve also learned to respect myself enough to stand firm in the choices I make for my body, my art, and my expression. The people who truly get me? They don’t flinch when I reveal more of who I am—they stay.

3. The Ultimatum ⚔️🫱🏻‍🫲🏼🚷
One gal I was close to—part of a friend group I genuinely cared about—gave me an ultimatum: choose between her and another creator in the group. There had been a falling out between several of the girls, and emotions were running high. I understood that things had gone wrong. But I wasn’t involved in what happened between them, and I didn’t feel it was fair to be asked to pick sides.

I told her, clearly and kindly, that I wasn’t going to choose. That she was the one making that choice—not me. I said, “I care about everyone in this group. My feelings toward you—or toward anyone else—don’t change just because you don’t get along.”

Still, she walked away. And yeah, it stung. But I knew in my heart I had handled it the way I needed to. I wasn’t dismissing her hurt. I just wasn’t going to exile someone else to maintain peace.

People are allowed to fall out. But that doesn’t mean everyone around them has to set fire to their own connections in response. I believe we’re capable of holding space for multiple people at once, even when things get messy. I still care about everyone involved. I always did. That’s the part that hasn’t changed.

4. The Fame Filter 📸🤳🥲
A photographer I once considered a friend lashed out at me because I had accepted a guesting spot at a convention. They told me I was “too famous” for them now. Not in a joking way—in a cold, biting, genuinely resentful way. And it hit me hard.

The truth? I’ve spent more on cosplay than I’ve ever made from it. Most of my ‘success’ is built on passion, caffeine, and sheer stubbornness—not profit. But in this community, perception can get really distorted. Suddenly, getting invited to a con or having a few viral posts makes people treat you like you’ve sold out, like you’ve changed—even when you haven’t.

It’s exhausting to constantly have to defend your intentions or prove that you’re still the same person, just trying to do what you love. I didn’t get into cosplay for clout. I got into it because it made me feel alive. But that day, their words made me feel small.

5. The Sick Day Fallout 🤒📷💔
I once did a shoot while guesting at a con, even though I had a terrible fever. I should’ve canceled—I knew I should’ve—but I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. So I pushed through, trying to be professional even though I was visibly unwell. I could barely keep my eyes open, I was flushed from the fever, and I honestly wasn’t in the right headspace to be in front of a camera.

When I saw the photos later, they were objectively beautiful—he did an amazing job. But all I could see was how sick I looked. The swelling in my throat, the glazed-over eyes, the fatigue in every pose. I just couldn’t bring myself to share them. Not because of the photography—because of how I felt seeing myself that way.

Not long after, I ended up in the hospital with the flu. I don’t know if he was hurt, confused, or just moved on—but we didn’t really speak again after that. And yeah… that stung. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes, moments like that create distance that neither person knows how to bridge. But it stayed with me. It reminded me how fragile even professional relationships can feel when communication breaks down—and how important it is to listen to my body before I push myself too far.

6. The Online Friend 🧑‍💻🎭😭
I had a friend I cosplayed and gamed with regularly—someone I genuinely believed cared about me. We shared late-night laughs, vented about life, supported each other through burnout, and celebrated little victories together. It felt like we had built something real—grounded in mutual respect and a shared love for the things we enjoyed.

Then one day, completely out of nowhere, they asked me to create adult-themed content for them. And not just anything—it was a very specific request. They offered to pay me $300–$500 every two weeks to insult them. Regularly. On command. It was a personal kink, framed as a business proposal, with no warning or lead-up—just a blunt proposition that blindsided me.

My first response was confusion. I asked, “How are we supposed to stay friends after this?”
And that’s when they said it: “We won’t. You’re just an online friend anyway.”

That sentence shattered something in me. I asked one last time for clarity: “Do you want me as a friend, or as someone you can pay to be your online verbal dominatrix?”

They answered. They wanted the latter.

I remember freezing. Not because I wanted to say yes—but because I was afraid. Afraid that if I didn’t respond the “right” way, I’d lose what I thought was a meaningful friendship. And if I’m being honest, I even considered the request for a second. Not because of the money—but because I valued the connection. I didn’t want to lose it.

My brain did what it’s learned to do—shut down my emotions and try to reason through it. “Maybe if I ignore this, we can pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe we can go back to how it was.”

Looking back, I realize I needed time to process because of where I come from. I grew up in a home where I was regularly verbally abused and manipulated. And when that’s your baseline, your nervous system learns to prioritize survival over self-worth. You learn to accommodate discomfort just to preserve a sense of connection—any connection.

But deep down, it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under everything I thought we had built.

When the shock finally wore off, the pain hit all at once. I cried—a lot. Not just because of the request, but because of what it revealed. This wasn’t the friendship I thought it was. I had believed we saw each other as equals, as people who mattered to one another. But in the end, I was just a role to be filled—someone they could pay to act out a fantasy.

It stirred up something old in me. That whisper of a lie I’ve fought to silence for years: that I’m only worth something when I’m giving people what they want. That I only matter when I’m performing. That I have to constantly perform—keep a smile on my face, be accommodating, make others feel comfortable and happy—just to stay safe. Just to feel loved. That who I am doesn’t matter unless it serves someone else’s need.

That’s a lie I’m still unlearning. But I’m getting better at recognizing it. Better at setting boundaries. And stronger, every time I choose self-respect over silence.

7. Security Breach 🚨🔒😖
I had a friend who made me feel safe—someone I trusted deeply. They had even helped with con security before, stepping in when things felt sketchy and being the kind of presence you could relax around. I never questioned their intentions. I never thought I’d have to.

And then—suddenly—they crossed a line I never expected. Out of nowhere, they made uncomfortable advances. It wasn’t just what they said—it was the shift. The way everything changed in a second. That moment rewrote every interaction we’d ever had in my mind, and I didn’t know what to do with that dissonance.

It wasn’t just about rejecting them. It was about the loss of that safety I thought I had. About realizing someone I felt protected by had been seeing things differently all along. I felt blindsided, disoriented, and deeply hurt.

When someone makes you feel safe and then breaks that trust, it doesn’t just bruise the friendship—it cracks something in your ability to trust people at all. That betrayal left me shaken in ways I didn’t fully process until much later. I didn’t yell. I didn’t confront. I just pulled away. Quietly, but completely. Because once that sense of safety is gone… it’s nearly impossible to get back.

8. When I Was Abandoned 🧍‍♀️🚷😢
Another friend—someone I trusted to help with con safety—was with me during a moment that quickly became frightening. A persistent, invasive fan tried to follow me into my hotel room and later showed up near a private birthday dinner. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t harmless. I was uncomfortable, then nervous, then scared.

I asked my friend to step in—to say something, to help me set a clear boundary. They knew it was serious. I made it clear I wasn’t okay. But they didn’t act. Whether it was uncertainty, discomfort, or something else, I don’t know. But in that moment, they chose not to engage.

I ended up having to shout at the guy in the hotel lobby—telling him loudly and clearly to leave me alone. I don’t usually raise my voice like that, but I felt cornered and alone.

I don’t think my friend intended to let me down. But they did. And as much as I try to understand it, the truth is… I’ve never felt safe around them since. That moment broke a kind of trust that’s hard to rebuild.

It taught me something painful but important: that support isn’t just about being present—it’s about taking action when it matters. And when I say I need help, I need to know the people around me will actually show up.

9. The Overbearing Parasocial Bond 🧠💔
One of the more recent things that’s pushed me into reevaluating my relationship with cosplay—and online spaces in general—is the fear of forming, or becoming the target of, an overbearing parasocial relationship. When someone starts treating you like they know you intimately, when really they only know your curated content… it’s unsettling. Suddenly, your boundaries don’t feel like they belong to you anymore.

I have a couple of people who’ve crossed that line so uncomfortably that I stopped streaming altogether. These were long-time supporters—people who, at one point, felt like part of a positive space. But something shifted. Their interactions became more intense. Personal. Possessive. I’ve tried to back off—quietly stop responding, not engage—but they don’t. They’re always there. Hovering. Commenting. Messaging. They refuse to back off, and that has started to deeply unsettle me. They’ve even made others in my community uncomfortable. I only found out long after the fact.

I don’t use their names anymore. I refer to them only by their handles now—because that’s the boundary I’ve had to draw for my own peace. It might sound harsh, but it’s what I need to feel safe. And the truth is… they’re getting to a point where it no longer feels like enthusiastic fandom—it’s starting to feel like stalking. And like most people, I have zero interest in stalkers.

I’m still trying to figure out how to balance this. I don’t want to vanish. I don’t want to give up on cosplay or community or content creation. But I do want to talk about it—because I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. And maybe if we say it out loud, it’ll help others recognize these behaviors early—whether they’re experiencing it, or unintentionally causing it.

And for anyone who says, “Well, you put yourself on the internet—what did you expect?”

I’ll tell you: I expect to be treated like a human. That said… Before I get worked up, this is a conversation for another day…

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Where I Stand With It All 🪨🕊️

Honestly, most of these folks probably don’t even know how deeply they hurt me—many will be learning this for the first time if they ever read it. I haven’t called them out. I haven’t had big confrontations. I don’t want to rehash these things or try to “fix” those relationships. I want to move on respectfully, because in each of these cases, boundaries I have were crossed—and once someone crosses those, there’s no going back for me.

And I’ll be real with you—I’m imperfect in this way. I’m not able to forgive every transgression. I’m not a saint and I don’t want to appear to be. Admitting that is hard, but necessary. I’m the common denominator in these failed friendships. Could I try to have conversations and work things out? Maybe. Possibly. But I have a strong belief that people don’t change. And in these instances, even if I tried to repair those bridges, I’d be compromising the respect I have for my own boundaries.

I don’t really fight with people. I perfer to just slowly disappear. If they ever reach out and want to talk, I’ll be 100% honest—no matter how uncomfortable it is. I understand that some people need closure. That said, once my guard is up. It will never come back down.

And even after all of it… I still wish every one of them the best. I hope they are happy and thriving. 💙

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To Those Still in My Corner 🥹❤️

To the friends who “made it” and still check in or help when I ask—you know who you are. 🫶 I’m not name-dropping (feels icky), but just know… I see you. I appreciate you. 🥰 You could be doing photoshoots in Tokyo, signing autographs at cons, walking cosplay carpets—and you still take the time to reply to my random questions or send a lil “hi.” That kind of kindness? Rare. 🌟

I don’t need constant conversation. I’m that “pop up in your DMs like a lizard ghost 👻🦎” type. Like a surprise weather alert—brief, sincere, and usually with memes or accidental emotional depth. Unless you’re in my daily orbit (hi, three people 👋👀), I’m low maintenance. No flood of messages. No guilt trips. Life is chaos. I get it. But when we reconnect? It’s like no time passed. 💬💞 That’s what real friendship feels like to me.

And to the folks who are just out there thriving—still cosplaying for fun, still making wild builds and heartfelt art, still showing up with love for this community without chasing career clout—I see you, too. Your passion is a breath of fresh air. Thank you for reminding me why I started in the first place. 💖🧵🎭 Your joy isn’t tied to numbers or sponsorships—it’s tied to creativity, laughter, late-night builds, and shared fandom love. You embody what cosplay has always been at its core: Play. Passion. People. You help keep the magic alive. Never underestimate how much that means. 💫💛

If you’re new to me—or to this community—welcome. 🦎✨ Whether you found me through a meme, a con panel, or just stumbled across this post, I’m genuinely glad you’re here. I know it can feel like everyone already knows each other, has pro gear, and 100k followers—but trust me, nobody started that way. I once wore Sharpie on my arms for a Medusa cosplay. No joke. 😂

You don’t have to be a pro, or have a massive following, or wear the most screen-accurate costume to belong. Just showing up with heart and respect makes you part of the family. 💖🧡 You’re allowed to be messy, to learn, to grow at your own pace. What matters most? That you’re having fun. 💖

Please don’t let my negative experiences dissuade you. I have a million more positive stories than the few heavy ones I’ve shared here. Cosplay is amazing and beautiful, and you will find friendships more magical and meaningful than you could’ve ever imagined by being part of this community.

I won’t lie—like life, there will always be some heartbreak. But I hope for you, it’s mostly the silly kind—like stabbing yourself with a needle at 2 a.m., or an almor strap snapping mid-convention—not the serious kind. 💖🎭🌟

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So, TL;DR… 📌

If I talk to you, it’s because I like you—not your following, not your skill. You. 💛 The memes you send. The chaos you bring. The kindness you carry. That’s what matters most to me.

For 99.9999999999999% of you… Even if you stopped creating content tomorrow, I’d still want to grab a drink or scream anime intros in the car 🎤🚗. You’re not just your craft—you’re a whole story, and I’m lucky to know even a paragraph of it.

I respect your talent more than I say. 🫣🎉 I’m cheering you on from the shadows like a proud cryptid. And even though I live tucked away on an island 🏝️, I’m always rooting for you 🥳📣. At conventions, I still wander solo or with a friend—not to network, but to connect. Just a lizard in the wild, collecting good people. 🦎💫

I’m a giver. I don’t ask for much—not because I don’t want to collaborate or bond deeper, but because I carry this anxious fear of seeming like I’m using someone. 😔💬 So I give. I vibe. I disappear. I reappear.

And as I slowly ease back into cosplay (hi again 👋)… just know: if you ever need a weather-loving, slightly chaotic friend who disappears and reappears like a seasonal Pokémon… 🌦️🎭

🦎 I’m your lizard. Always have been. And if we’ve had a falling out… please know I still wish you the best and hope you succeed in life. I understand if someone resents me for not handling things the way they wanted—but I do things my own way to protect my personal peace. 💌🕊️

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Why I’m Sharing This 💭

Cosplay is meant to be fun, creative, and full of connection—but too often, it becomes transactional, competitive, or quietly lonely. I’ve experienced both the magic and the heartbreak, and I know I’m not the only one.

For a long time, I couldn’t separate the pain from the community. The hurt I carried started to overshadow the joy I once felt. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve stopped blaming cosplay itself. I’ve started seeing things more clearly: these were difficult, painful life experiences—yes—but they just happened to unfold in a space I love.

And that’s exactly why it hurt so much.

Again, I see time and time again…

If you’ve stepped away from the community, I’d gently ask: take a moment to reflect. Why did you leave? What changed? Where did it go wrong—for you, and maybe for the people around you? Sometimes, the hardest thing to accept is this: we are the common denominator in our relationships. And if something keeps breaking, maybe it’s time to ask ourselves what we can do better, too. 💭

That’s not a blame game—it’s an invitation. To grow. To heal. To try again with clearer eyes and softer hands.

So here’s my personal promise—my little cosplay oath:
💫 I promise to keep speaking honestly, even when it’s uncomfortable.
💫 I promise to celebrate others, not compete with them.
💫 I promise to respect my own boundaries and those of others.
💫 I promise to uplift this community, not tear it down.
💫 I promise to keep searching for the joy—even if I have to dig through hot glue sticks to find it.

I hope you’ll consider making your own promise. Not to me—but to yourself. To protect your peace. To lead with kindness. To make this community something we’re proud to be part of again. 💖

I love cosplay. I love this community. I just want to keep finding the joy in it—and help others do the same. 🦎💚✨

Thanks for reading. This one came straight from the squishy part of my heart. 💚🌈

If this resonated with you, feel free to share it, tell me your story, or tag a friend who’s always been in your corner. Let’s keep the community grounded in real love and weird vibes. 💌🦎🌈