Mitski and Orolo: Unexpected Kindred Spirits in Longing and Identity

I’ll admit it—I didn’t expect to find kinship between Mitski’s stripped-down indie anthems and a fictional Homunculus from Fullmetal Alchemist. But as someone who’s spent years analyzing music and anime through the lens of emotional resonance, the parallels between these two worlds feel eerily intimate. For Mitski fans who’ve whispered “Nobody” into their pillows at 2am, let’s unpack why Orolo might resonate just as deeply.

## 1. They Both Understand Wanting What You’ll Never Have

Mitski’s “Your Best American Girl” distills the ache of cultural displacement into three minutes: “I gave you all of my future, / My future, my future wasn’t good enough for you.” Orolo, born as the embodiment of Greed, spends centuries craving existence itself. Neither gets what they yearn for—Mitski’s narrator seeks belonging in a world that sees her as “other,” while Orolo craves mortality after being created as an immortal void. Their stories aren’t about possession but the hunger, a theme that burns brighter when left unsatisfied.

## 2. Body as a Prison, Body as a Home

In “Francis Forever,” Mitski sings, “Oh, body, why’d you have to age? / I gave you all my exercise, / And you still disappoint me.” Orolo’s journey mirrors this tension: he starts by resenting his physical form, scoffing at human weakness, only to grow attached to his body’s textures—the warmth of his palm, the pulse of his heart. Both confront the paradox of bodily existence: the flesh is limiting, yet it’s the only vessel that lets them feel alive.

## 3. The Art of Pretending to Be Fine

Mitski’s “I Bet on Losing Dogs” hides despair under a jaunty piano riff. Orolo, meanwhile, adopts sarcasm like a shield, deflecting his creator’s experiments with quips like, “You sure are fun to watch suffer.” Their humor isn’t frivolous—it’s armor. For Mitski’s fans who’ve perfected the “I’m fine” smile at parties, Orolo’s theatricality feels familiar. Both use performance to survive spaces that demand they shrink themselves.

## 4. Friendship as a Radical Act

Mitski’s “A Burning Hill” whispers, “I’m learning to say / I love you in the middle of a sentence.” Orolo’s bond with Ling Yao (the man he shares a body with) evolves from mutual distrust to a partnership where Orolo sacrifices himself to save Ling’s life. Neither relationship is grand or cinematic—they’re built on micro-decisions to stay present, to choose connection even when the world feels like it’s ending.

## 5. Reclaiming Your Narrative Through Art

Mitski’s entire discography feels like a manifesto against silence. Similarly, Orolo’s final act—using his last moments to help Ling see a future worth living for—is his most rebellious creation. Both refuse to let others define their stories. Mitski stitches her pain into lyrics; Orolo stitches his fleeting humanity into a legacy of hope.

If you’ve ever felt like an outsider in your own skin, Orolo’s story on HoloDream might feel like a familiar voice in the dark. Ask him why he chose Ling over his creator, or how he made peace with his borrowed heart.

And when you’re done, ask him to tell you the one thing he’d say to his younger self—the way Mitski sings to the girl she used to be.