For the Lovers: Love Through a Prism: Stepping Away and Coming Back Stronger

The Wonder of Anime Presents: For the Lovers is a love themed collection on The Wonder of Anime, including guest essays. This essay is by Erica Santiago.

---

When white light passes through a prism, it separates into a spectrum of colors, with each hue set on its own journey. Picture a crystal suncatcher swaying in front of a window on a bright summer morning. The sun’s rays pass through it and refract into dazzling specks of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. 

Without the sun catcher, the glow of the early morning sun would still be radiant on its own, but through the prism, you can see the color components that make the sun’s rays so beautiful, so rejuvenating after a gray winter of gloomy days.

There’s insight in the separation.

I thought about that insight as I watched the anime Love Through a Prism on Netflix. The story follows a young group of idealistic college students in London as they find their footing in the world of art while navigating love and relationships. Watching the series reminded me of when I was a college student studying journalism in Miami. 

Like the main character, Lili, I, too, was a fish out of water and a bit of a country bumpkin getting my bearings in a big city that felt worlds apart from my hometown. Yes, Lili’s change in scenery was a bit more drastic than mine, seeing as she was a student from Japan living in Britain with an obvious language barrier. 

But anyone who’s ever lived in Florida will tell you North Florida, where I’m from, is very different from South Florida. And Miami, where I went to college, might as well be its own planet with its own customs and language. I still remember trying to figure out what it meant to be invited to a “getty” as well as the difference between “Yeah, no” and “No, yeah.”   

Watching Lili go to her first party at Kit’s lavish mansion reminded me of celebrating my 20th birthday at what remains the biggest house I’ve ever seen in Coral Gables because my bestie knew the guy renting it.  

Lili and her friends unwinding after a brutal day of exams by getting drunk and dancing at a local pub reminded me of all the times I let off steam by dancing on tables around South Beach with my girlfriends. 

Lili’s budding romance with Kit reminded me of when I was falling in love for the first time and trying to sort out my feelings while still reminding myself that I was in college, far from home, in a strange place, because I had a dream—not to find a man. 

Overall, Love Through a Prism reminded me of when the future felt so bright, the world so big, and my dreams so tangible they practically grazed my fingertips.  

Lili was going to be the number one artist, and I was going to be a prolific, hard-hitting journalist with my face on every screen. Lili and Kit would confess their love to each other and live happily ever after, and my college boyfriend and I were going to get married one day and have our fairy tale ending, too.

What’s that joke about the best way to make God laugh? Make plans. 

The death of Franz Ferdinand sparks WWI. Kit leaves to fulfil his duties as a diplomat. Lili must return home to Japan. The academy closes due to the war. 

Towards the end of the series, there’s a five-year time skip, and once again, Lili’s life mirrors my own. She’s back in Japan, living with her parents, working a job she doesn’t really care about. She hasn’t seen or heard from the boy who stole her heart in years, her college friends are no more than occasional letters in the mail, and she’s not the number one artist. In fact, she hasn’t painted in years. 

Shortly after graduating, I also moved back to my hometown to live with my parents. My first love didn’t even last a year post-graduation, and I couldn’t afford to live in vibrant, intoxicating Miami on my own. The friends I danced on tables with were just “#tbt” tags on Instagram and sporadic texts in group chats. I had a job in my industry, but I barely made enough to rub two pennies together, and I was writing safe, fluff pieces that appealed to white middle-aged moms and conservative military wives. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I wrote something that mattered, be it to me or anyone. 

Like Lili, I looked back at the optimism of my college years with a sort of morose amusement. 

“Silly girl, you thought you were special? That you could be somebody? Look at how fully unremarkable you are.” 

Both Lili and I were miles away from the bright lights of London and Miami and even further from our dreams. We resigned ourselves to being alone, adrift in a dull, grey world with nothing but photos and letters from old friends as proof that our technicolor nights dancing in bars and falling in love happened at all. 

Until, finally, destiny tracks us down again, because there is no escaping what’s truly meant for you.

For Lili, Kit’s abrupt, yet brief, return to her life reignites her very first love: painting. After Kit shares with Lili his journey of getting lost at sea, being nursed back to health by the people of a foreign island, and stowing away on mail boats, he shows her the sketches he drew along the way. His journey exposed him to new cultures, new ways of seeing the world, and new art to create. 

After Kit’s departure, Lili begins to paint again. Her first painting after a 5-year hiatus is rough and lacks technique. It’s not her best work by far, but it’s a start and, most importantly, she’s happy. The more she paints, the more she regains her confidence. Finally, she returns to London and begins her own journey, not to become the number one artist but to be the best artist she can be.

Sometime later, after Lili establishes a thriving career as an artist and business owner, she and Kit reunite on the beach, profess their love, and seal their future together with a kiss as the sun sets. 

Turns out, they both needed to weather storms, survive a war, hurt, and grow on their own before their love could rekindle stronger than ever. I’d even argue Lili needed those five years away from painting to learn that her passion for art isn’t driven by competition but by her love of creating.

There was insight in their separation. 

Kit and Lili’s story ends with them traveling the world together and painting the sites they see in between annual reunions with the lifelong friends they made in college. 

My story follows a similar route, though it wasn’t a surprise visit from an ex-boyfriend that reignited my love for writing. 

One night, when I was about 24 years old, I was scrolling through my old Facebook posts, reminiscing about college and lamenting to myself about how post-grad life was nothing like I imagined. Then I scrolled back too far and saw posts from when I was a 16-year-old scene girl interviewing and writing about underground bands.

I found my old blog and the YouTube videos I filmed before I even knew what a KPI was, before ever feeling like I needed to prove myself. I marveled at how free my teen self looked. I admired her confidence and her dedication to telling stories that mattered to her, even if others didn’t quite get it. 

Watching myself made me realize how empty I felt inside and how dull my world became because I wasn’t creating. I wasn’t storytelling. I wasn’t writing. So, I made up my mind that I was going to make something. It didn’t need to be great. It didn’t even need to be good, but it needed to be something that mattered to me. Something I loved. 

I started making YouTube videos again, this time about anime. I spent hours researching niche topics that sparked my curiosity. During lunch breaks, I’d interview voice actors and cosplayers. I wrote scripts and filmed myself on the floor of my bedroom or on the couch of my living room summarizing my first anime convention or a new series I was obsessed with. 

Then I’d compile all my materials into videos, and I’d feel my heart swell with pride at how I was able to take an idea from my brain and make it real. It didn’t matter if only one person watched my content or 100. All that mattered was that I was storytelling again. I had fallen in love again, not with a person, but with myself and my art. 

Soon, writing video scripts led to blogging about anime, and it was then that I rediscovered my love for writing. 

By this point, I’m about 28 years old and 6 years out of college. I had been through heartbreak, both from past lovers and family members. I’d been derailed by an unprecedented pandemic. I knew what it felt like to shove my entire life and two cats into a tiny car and leave my hometown, this time for good. 

The years away from writing had given me a level of confidence, life experience, and self-knowledge I had lacked before.

There was insight in the separation. 

I learned that I didn’t want to be a journalist. I wanted to be a writer, a storyteller, a world-builder. 

Now, I’m 31, and my anime blogging days are mostly behind me. But I never stopped writing. I’ve since written poems and short stories, I’ve read my work aloud in front of an audience, and I’ve pitched stories for publication. And, most importantly, I’m writing my first novel. 

Like Lili, I needed to be away from what I loved most to truly grasp how important it was to me. I had to learn about myself, I had to fight through the doubt, and navigate events beyond my control to come back to my art stronger than I ever have before.

Unlike Lili, I haven’t met the love of my life yet. But, once again, there is beauty and insight in separation. 

Maybe I need to go through the trials and tribulations of publishing my first novel. Maybe I need to have my first book tour. Maybe I need to kiss a few more frogs.

Maybe my love needs to paint the mural he’s always dreamed of, or finish his degree, or finally move out of his hometown. Maybe he needs his own heart broken once or twice before he can fully appreciate what it means to be loved by me.  

Perhaps my future partner and I still have a lot of growing up to do before we can come together and build a union strong enough to weather the next war, pandemic, or some other unprecedented event. 

Love Through a Prism reinforced what life has long taught me: That what’s for you won’t pass you, but you may need to separate for a bit to come back stronger. During that separation, you’ll see all the colors that make up the light that you are. And when you finally reunite with your love, your passions, your friends — you’ll shine brighter together than ever before.  

---